


The Lion Submits

by gardenofmaris



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anxiety, Dark, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Panic Attacks, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8457193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardenofmaris/pseuds/gardenofmaris
Summary: “Your father has sent me a message, you know,” King Bittle mused, pacing in front of Jack, who was held down by two guards even though he wasn't struggling. “He knows the ancient laws of all our lands, and he knows that your surrender means he has lost the war. He asks only that I send you back to him. I told him that he knows that your surrender means you belong to me now, body, mind, and soul. I own you now, and I am not going to send you back to your kingdom.” The king stopped in front of Jack and crouched down, grabbing his chin roughly and making him look into his eyes.“My son Eric is going to come of age soon. It will be a grand ceremony, and you would be the perfect present for him."PLEASE READ THE TAGS. THIS IS GOING TO DEAL WITH SOME DARK THEMES.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So  
> First of all  
> I apologize to everyone who knows me and didn't see this coming  
> I didn't see it coming either
> 
> That being said, this will not be a happy story for most of it. I know where I want the ending to go, but this isn't going to be a fairy tale or romanticization. I don't condone any of this in real life. This is just fiction. If you don't like this, please exit this page and don't be rude.  
> Thank you.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> non-explicit rape/non-con  
> non-explicit torture  
> panic attacks
> 
> If I missed a tag, I am so sorry and please let me know.

Jack stared down at the floor, swallowing and grimacing at the taste of blood in his mouth. He refused to look up at the man towering over him. The last thing he wanted to do was anger him, given how Jack's life was now in the hands of this man, a rival king who hated his kingdom and had waged brutal war against them for years upon years with no indication of stopping.

“Your father has sent me a message, you know,” King Bittle mused, pacing in front of Jack, who was held down by two guards even though he wasn't struggling. “He knows the ancient laws of all our lands, and he knows that your surrender means he has lost the war. He asks only that I send you back to him. I told him that he knows that your surrender means you belong to me now, body, mind, and soul. I _own_ you now, and I am not going to send you back to your kingdom. No, that would give your people strength. Instead, I will take the land your father's father stole from my ancestors and keep you, and I will leave your people be.” The king stopped in front of Jack and crouched down, grabbing his chin roughly and making him look into his eyes.

“My son Eric is going to come of age soon. It will be a grand ceremony, and you would be the perfect present for him. See, his coming of age means that he is to receive his first pleasure slave. Such is the highest honor a slave can have, and I do not want to be unnecessarily cruel to someone who handed us our victory on a silver platter. You will be trained until then, of course. His ceremony is set for yet another half year, when the snows have finished melting and the sun is beginning to shine warmly again.”

Jack's breath caught in his throat, and he could not stop the fear from permeating every inch of his body. His heart beat heavy in his chest, so forcefully he could swear that everyone in the room could hear it. He couldn't believe it, and he almost wished that he could go back and refuse to surrender, to keep fighting.

But he remembered the carnage vividly, remembered watching his people die. He remembered holding a man, who he had played with as a child but never really got to know, as he bled out, gasping a request to tell his mother that he loved her. He closed his eyes, remembering the pendant he had handed to a soldier before surrendering, with the instructions that it be delivered to the man's family with his message.

In that moment, he remembered why he'd surrendered. They were never going to win the war. It was impossible. His father feared what would happen if he surrendered, however, so he kept sending out people. So Jack had taken the decision into his own hands, and had taken the burden onto himself. This was for his people, he reminded himself, and he reopened his eyes with a renewed sense of strength.

King Bittle must have seen it, and he shook his head. “You poor child,” he whispered pityingly, expression almost regretful. “You should have let the fear overwhelm you. You would have had a much easier time of it.”

“The love for my people will keep me alive,” Jack replied steadily, raising his head with the air of royalty his birth had bestowed upon him.

“Your love for your people will kill you, if you do not grow to hate them first.” He tutted and shook his head, before making a motion towards one of the guards.

Jack felt a hand fist in his locks, and there was a sharp and painful pulling sensation as the man brutally pulled him to his feet by his hair. King Bittle nodded to a servant standing in the background and she came forward, bowing as she presented His Majesty with an iron collar. It looked painful, inlaid with dull looking spikes on the inside. He could tell with one look that the collar had been cleaned, but even the most thorough cleaning could not rid it of the tarnishes that he could only assume had been created by blood.

The king tilted Jack's chin up once more, and inspected his neck objectively, nodding to himself. Taking the collar, he fastened it around Jack's neck, locking it and taking a step back. “Yes, very good,” he murmured. “Now guards, back to his knees like the slave he is.”

Jack grunted as his knees jarred painfully against the marble floor, the guards having knocked him down by setting off the reflexes in the backs of his knees. He tried to look up at the king, but the guards forced his head down into a position of submission. Instinctive tears of pain pricked at his eyes as the new position shoved the sensitive areas of his neck into the spike, the dull ends on the verge of breaking through the skin.

“Take him to his new quarters, and make sure to inform the trainer of his new project,” he heard His Majesty say to the guards, talking about him as if he was no longer in the room. “He is to be a priority. If he is not ready by the time Eric comes of age, I will be sorely disappointed. My son deserves the best, not just any slave.”

He heard the guards answer in the affirmative, and they half lifted him off the ground, dragging him to gods knew where, forcing him down every time he tried to walk for himself. All he could see was the floor passing by, and he forced himself not to think about it, not to freak out too much. He just had to survive, one day at a time. There was no going back. There was no fixing this. He would remain strong, and he would get through this. He just had to remember not to panic.

Jack distracted himself through the discomfort of being dragged down stairs and cold stone hallways by taking deep breaths, by losing himself in his mind, the way that had always worked when fear threatened to overtake him. He knew fear, anxiety. He knew feeling as if everything was going to go horribly wrong. Most of all, he knew how to cope with it, how to keep it from destroying him from the inside out.

Eventually, they arrived to whatever destination it was that the King had wanted him to be taken, as he was thrown into a cell, the door locked behind him, and footsteps trailing away from it as voices continued whatever conversation the guards had been having while they took him to whatever place he was in.

 _O_ _kay,_ he thought to himself. _Take stock of where you are, what you have._ He looked around, noticing only a blanket, cot, and a toilet that looked like it belonged in a prison. A sigh of relief escaped him. He would have chosen a waste corner had it been necessary, but he was glad it wasn't.

He got up and explored the cell for a while longer, taking in everything he possibly could, but in the end, he only had what he saw on first glance. Sitting down on the cot, he slumped down and sighed deeply, tired. The day had finally begun to catch up to him, and the adrenaline that had fueled him after the long arduous battle early that morning had now fled. With nothing else to do and nowhere to go, Jack curled up on the hard sleeping accommodations he'd been provided and covered himself with the scratchy, smelly, musty blanket, and thanked the gods that he hadn't been killed, before falling into a deep sleep.

~ ~ ~

Jack woke up wheezing, a sharp pain in his side, and bolted upwards, head swiveling as he surveyed for danger, pushing to the back of his mind the discomfort of the collar's spikes digging into his skin. A hand reached out and stopped his head forcefully, a strong grip keeping him in place as he caught his breath and processed what was going on.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The man grabbed his collar and drug him off of the bed to the ground, disregarding the cry of surprise and pain as the skin on the back of his neck actually broke, the unforgiving metal forcing its way into his tissues. A small part in the back of his brain that sat largely ignored noted, with no small amount of relief, that the spikes were positioned in non-fatal areas, and that even if the collar twisted to those areas, they were not nearly large enough to cause irreversible damage. The rest of his brain, however, was occupied with being dragged to his knees and head being forced down again.

“You will learn many things during your time here,” the man began, and Jack realized that this was the “trainer” King Bittle had spoken of. “From this moment on, you will keep in mind three things, the most important rules of all. Forget or refuse, and you will find yourself in a world of pain. First, you belong on your knees at all times. If you must move, you will crawl on your hands and knees. Disobey this enough times, and I will hobble you so that you will have no choice but to be on your knees. Second, you will not make any eye contact with anyone, ever, unless they command it. That means you will keep your head down, or we will force it down, and you really don't want those spikes in your skin all the time, do you now? Third, and most important, you will only ever address people as Master or Mistress. You will not test my patience on this one. As a future pleasure slave, I cannot cut out your tongue, but I know lovely and painful ways to destroy your vocal chords. Do not. Test. Me. Is that clear?”

Jack swallowed and nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. “Yes...” He closed his eyes, willing himself to get rid of his dignity and choke out that one word.

“I am not a patient man, slave.” The threat was filled with menace, and he decided to let survival instincts take over.

“Yes, Master,” he whispered, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Good boy.” The hand that was holding his head down turned gentle and stroked through his hair once. He saw the feet in front of him turn and heard a “Follow me, slave,” that he dared not disobey, and crawled after the man, hurrying to keep up with him.

~ ~ ~

The next six months passed slowly, brutally, and painfully. He learned to follow every order to the letter, or be beaten. The trainer found every possible flaw that he could and used every method he could to break Jack of them, and sometimes beat him simply because he wanted to.

The worst parts though, the parts that he refused to think of, were the men the trainer brought in so that Jack could learn how to please men properly. Yes, he'd taken both men and women into his bed, and he tried to protest when it first happened, but the trainer would not hear of it. There was always more to learn, he told Jack in between lashes of the whip, and he would learn everything he could in the time he had.

He sobbed and cried out for it to stop as the men put their hands all over him, touching him, fondling him. Tears made their way down his cheeks as he learned how to take a cock in his mouth fully, how to sit back and let his throat be fucked until it was raw. The only thing no one was allowed to do was fuck him, and while it was a small source of comfort, it paled in comparison to everything else he had to do if he wanted to keep breathing.

By the end of the six months, anyone who looked into his eyes could tell you that this was not Jack Zimmermann. This was not the prince who had been radiant, kind, and fierce in battle. He no longer had his sharp wit, or his easy smile. The fear he had so easily managed to overcome before now took him over, controlled his every action. The fear kept him alive, kept him breathing, kept him obedient, even though all he wanted to do was lay down and stop existing.

He was the perfect slave, and it was time to fulfill his purpose.

~ ~ ~

Music blared around him, not at all diminished by the white sheet covering his cage. He was curled up on lavish pillows, awaiting the moment that he would be presented in front of the entire court as his Master's coming of age present. His hands idly came up to toy with the new collar he'd been presented with that day. It was a collar worthy of the pleasure slave of his Master the Prince, made of the strongest steel overlaid with pure gold and inlaid with jewels, intricately carved patterns surrounding them and a D-ring to attach a rope or chain to if his Master so desired.

He closed his eyes and let himself fall back into a haze until such time as he would be needed. The music and laughing of the room made a lulling white noise if he just tuned out enough, and soon he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, neither awake nor asleep.

After a while, the music died down, and a silence came over the crowd. He knew that this was his time, the main event, the presenting of His Majesty's birthday gift to his son. With an ease that was almost second nature, given how often the trainer had had him do it in preparation for this very moment, he adjusted his bound hands and feet and got into proper position, on his knees, head bowed, eyes downcast.

He spread his legs ever so slightly for better balance, feeling the air cool his warm body through the thin, almost see through clothes he'd been donned with, if you could even call them clothes. That was not his worry, however, and he calmed his breathing. Unable to conquer the fear he may be, but he was now adept at hiding it from a cursory glance. He was to be the perfect gift for his Master, so perfect he would be. It was what he had chosen, what would forevermore be his lot in life.

The King's speech ended and with what he assumed to be a grand flourish, the sheet over his cage was lifted. His eyes stayed down, and he heard the applause, the murmurs of appreciation. He had worked hard for his body, and it was just as toned as it had been when he arrived. There was no doubt what he was, and he knew that people envied his Master.

The sound of the unlocked cage door opening startled him out of his thoughts, and he jolted, lightly enough that no one but his Master would be able to see. He tensed, waiting for the blow from the unauthorized movement, but none came. He wasn't able to be confused for long however, because a gentle voice commanded him to come out of the cage.

He lowered himself onto his bound hands, glad that there were a few inches between each rope manacle around his wrists and ankles that made it possible for him to move ever so slightly. Shuffling out slowly, he made his way to his Master's feet and brought himself back up to his knees, keeping his eyes down and resolutely making sure that he didn't even accidentally look someone in the eyes.

His Master crouched down in front of him, reminiscent of his father from so many months ago, and gently tilted his head up.

“Look at me, please,” the voice asked, and he did as was asked, noting with confusion the innocent face that looked back at him. He held his Master's gaze for only a few seconds before lowering them, unsure of what to do. He was used to beatings and pain, harsh words and cruel movements, and here his Master was, asking him to _please_ do something.

It wouldn't last long though, he knew. As soon as the hand let go of his face, he let his head fall back into its submissive stance, and a hand trailed through his hair as his Master thanked his father for the lovely gift.

His Master had someone remove the ropes from him, and soon enough he was following his Master wherever he went, first to open the rest of his presents, then to thank everyone who came, laughing in embarrassment at their leering comments about his upcoming night, before finally his Master was carried on an elaborate chair back to his room.

By the time they had reached his Master's quarters, his knees and hands were bruised and aching, but he betrayed nothing and knelt down at the foot of his Master's bed, waiting for his next order.

The temptation to follow his Master around the room with his eyes was almost nonexistent, and what was there he could feel in a deep corner in the back of his mind that he had not explored for a long time. He knew better, and he waited patiently. Soon enough, he thought, trembling ever so lightly in fear, his Master would take him to bed, and it would be time to put into action all that he had learned.

There was a creak of the bed as someone obviously got into it, and he heard his Master call him up into it. He crawled up into it and, without preamble, removed his clothes in two quick and effortless moves. “How would you have me, Master?” he whispered, voice hoarse and soft, submissive in the way that he was taught.

He heard an intake of breath and tensed up, jerking violently when he heard the words “Oh gods, no,” and a hand landed on his shoulder.

In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he'd messed up. He'd messed up and now he was going to be beat. Maybe it'd be the paddle. Or the cane. Or the whip. Gods, he hated the whip. The barely healed over wounds on his back throbbed with phantom pain, and he realized that he wasn't breathing, that someone was making a noise like they were dying. With startling clarity, he realized that he was the one making that noise, at the exact same time that he heard his Master's voice say something that he couldn't hear over the rushing of blood in his ears. He could feel himself trembling as if he was seizing, and knew that the fear had finally taken him over completely. A hand touched him, and he pulled away as if he'd been burned, an animal cry escaping him as he fell off of the bed and onto the cold hard floor. Rolling over onto his hands and knees, he began gagging, the smells and sounds and tastes of those nameless men overwhelming him until he felt his stomach empty itself onto the stone below him.

He moved away from the bed blindly, mind overcome with the need to get away, to breathe again, to stop this buzzing in his ears, to get rid of the millions of ants crawling under his too tight skin, get away get away get-

He woke with a start, gasping for breath and whimpering as the breaths he took hurt his ragged throat. All he remembered was a terrible nightmare, one where he had completely broken down and no doubt shamed his Master. It was a strange nightmare in that it hadn't ended with him tied to a post being lashed, as per usual, but it was even more terrifying in that he had been so out of his mind and he hadn't known what punishment such a large disobedience would warrant.

His hands moved to his sides and he looked around, seeing that he was in a lush bed, all alone. A sneaking feeling that maybe he hadn't been dreaming came over him with a not small sense of dread, but he tried to wave it off to himself.

Suddenly, he heard movement from the side of the bed and immediately turned to determine what made the sound, gasping in terror as he realized that it was his Master closing a book he'd obviously been reading. It was true. The whole dream was true. He scrambled out of bed before his Master even finished lifting himself out of his chair, getting down on his hands and knees and grovelling. He didn't know what he was saying, only knew that he wanted to be good, so good, do anything his Master wanted him to do.

A shushing noise reached his ears, and he immediately quieted, staying bowed low and trembling in fear.

“It's okay. You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you.” His Master's voice was soft, gentle, welcoming. It soothed something inside of him, even as he still stayed on guard for any blows.

“Come on. Get up, please.”

He was full of wariness, sure that the other shoe would drop at any moment, but knowing that he had to do what he was told. His purpose was no longer to rule. His purpose was to serve his Master, and he wanted to do the best that he could to avoid the pain that he'd been taught comes with disobedience.

Up on his knees, he swallowed thickly and stayed in place, unsure of what to do next.

“Very good.” His Master's soft voice continued. “Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

He climbed into bed again, moving into the position he'd been taught, on his hands and knees presenting himself. It was made easier given the fact that his clothes were still off, and he buried his face in his arms, not only to make the curves of his body more appealing, but also so that he could hide from what he was certain was about to happen.

He heard an intake of breath from beside the bed. It worried him that he couldn't tell what his Master was feeling from that sound alone, but he did his best to shake it off as much as possible and stay relaxed. There wasn't as much pain when you relaxed. He knew that from previous experience, in a life that he knew he had lived but no longer recognized.

A hand was placed gently on his back and he tensed slightly, cursing himself internally. His life depended on doing well in the bedroom, the trainer had made that clear. He could still hear the trainer's monologue of everything that happened to pleasure slaves who did not do their jobs correctly, and the mental images haunted him in his sleep every night. So he tried to relax again, leaned into the touch, followed his Master's hands and soon found himself on his back.

He blinked, surprised at the sudden change in position, but spread his legs anyways. Perhaps this was how his Master wanted him instead. He swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat, closing his eyes. “How shall I serve you, Master?” he whispered, fisting his hands in the sheets in fear.

“Sit up for me, please.”

The confusion that had been bubbling up in him since waking up got even more potent, but he did as he was asked, head bowed.

“Can you look at me? You don't have to worry about the rule that says you can't look me in the eyes in here. I don't particularly like that rule.”

His head practically shot up as he hurried to fix his mistake, unwilling to make his Master angrier than he probably was already. He turned to look at his Master, who was perched on the edge of the bed, looking unsure of himself and not at all angry in the way he'd expected.

It was in that moment that he realized something. His Master was a virgin. He had to be, with his lack of sexual aggressiveness, the unsure look, the soft spoken and delicate way he spoke and held himself. This was not a man who was well versed in the pleasures of the flesh, and it was up to him to teach his Master, repulsive though the idea was.

Before he could offer, however, his Master spoke. “What's your name?”

He blinked a few times, trying to understand why he would be asked that. “I am whoever you wish me to be, Master,” he replied, not sure of what was happening.

“I am aware of that. I want to know your birth name, though. I know you were once the prince of one of the many kingdoms my father waged war on, but I do not know your name.”

Swallowing, he nodded, and clasped his hands together to try and gain some semblance of comfort. “My name was Jack, Master.”

His Master's eyes widened, and he breathed in a gasp. “You are Jack Zimmermann? I have only ever heard of you before, of the great deeds you have done. Why did you surrender, if you knew what the laws said?”

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “The people could no longer fight the war. They were dying in vain, and it was the responsibility of the royal family to protect them, so I did, Master.”

His Master breathed out in shock and his eyes remained wide. He saw him look down and whisper the words “Jack Zimmermann” to himself, before snapping out of it and looking back up at Jack.

“Right. Well. That was incredibly noble of you to do, Jack. Your people must adore you.”

He shook his head. “They are no longer my people, Master. I am yours, and yours alone, and I have nothing. I am nothing but yours, Master.” The words were intoned in a dead, flat voice as he let himself fall deeper into the mindset he'd been beaten into. There was no use in pretending he was a prince when he wasn't, when he never would be again.

His Master looked pained at his words, and bit his lip, obviously thinking. “I'm going to be honest with you. I've never wanted a pleasure slave. It's not something I've ever been interested in. I want intimacy and passion, not someone who has no choice.”

Jack's heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt as if someone was choking him. If he had no use, one would be found for him. He knew it. That was how it was. Slaves had to have a purpose, and there was no way in any realm of existence that he would be allowed to simply laze about and waste air. His chest ached as he thought of all those horrible men who had often whispered into his ear that they would love to have him if His Highness didn't want him.

“I was thinking, though,” his Master continued, and he snapped to attention, doing his best to pay attention to what was being said. “I'll probably order another bed be brought, and you can sleep there. You will be welcome to peruse whatever books I have available if you get bored, although you will have to go wherever I go when I leave, unless it is official royal business. Father wants to see how well they trained you before he lets you be privy to national secrets.”

The choke hold around his throat loosened slightly and he nodded. “Yes, Master,” he said, relieved, though he couldn't fully shake the feeling of dread. It just seemed like too simple of a solution. But it wasn't his place to question it, and they would both see how things unfolded.

His Master smiled and nodded. “Wonderful. Get dressed and I'll see about having a bed sent up some time after dinner. As it is, it's almost dinnertime. We will be eating with my father and mother in the dining hall.”

He murmured a soft affirmative and climbed out of his Master's bed, putting on his thin slips of clothing and crawling to his Master's feet to settle down at them until they were ready to leave. His Master hummed a quiet tune under his breath as he turned page after page, engrossed in whatever book he was currently reading.

The setting should have been peaceful and relaxing, and in some ways he guessed it was, but mostly there was tension underneath his skin, feeling ready to burst at any moment. He took a few breaths and buried it a little deeper in his body so that it would be harder to escape. It took some true effort, and he wasn't quite finished when a knock sounded on his Master's door and a servant came in at his Master's command, bowing and announcing that lunch would be served soon and that the King and Queen requested the pleasure of his company if he was not otherwise occupied.

He felt the eyes of the servant flick to him at the phrase, and a little bit of the tension floated back up to just below the surface of his skin, burying itself in the junction of his shoulder blades, making his muscles and bones tense up painfully. He knew what his Master's parents meant all too well.

“No, that's fine,” his Master replied, tone kind, as he rose and motioned almost absentmindedly for him to rise up as well and follow, though he was already in position. “Joining them for lunch will not be a problem.”

As his Master swept out of the room, he nodded at the two guards outside his room and stopped for a moment, smiling brightly at them both. “Ransom, Holster, how are you both doing today?”

They both beamed and bowed exaggeratedly, almost comically, and his Master laughed as they each pulled him into a tight hug.

“We're doing great, Bits,” one of the guard said, ruffling his Master's hair, while the other one placed a goofy kiss on his Master's cheek, which turned his whole face red. “But definitely not as great as you've gotta be doing.”

“Yeah,” the lighter one chimed in, looking pointedly down at him, and he averted his eyes, even if there had been no risk of eye contact with his discreet observations. “After all, you've got yourself a really pretty one here. He's gotta be great in bed.”

He wasn't sure what his Master's face looked like now that his view consisted almost entirely of floor and feet now, but he did know that his Master sounded a bit off with his next words. “Nothing happened, guys. He used to be a prince, just like me. The thought that that could have been me...”

His Master trailed off, and he closed his eyes that were quickly filling with tears of shame as he forced back a lifetime of memories of freedom and focused on the voice of the trainer outlining what the rest of his captive life was worth and what it would entail. He could feel his body curl into itself a little bit.

“Shit, Bits, I'm sorry.” He assumed the one who'd kissed his Master's cheek was still talking, as it was the same voice, although it was not tinged with something melancholy. “We'll keep our mouths shut, yeah?”

“Thanks guys,” his Master breathed. “Anyways, I've got to get going. Mom and Dad are expecting me at lunch. I'll see you both later.”

The two of them gave his Master goodbye hugs from what he could hear, and he obediently followed his Master down the hallway, thinking on what a strange sight that had just been. It almost made him wonder what his Master had or did that created that kind of camaraderie, but he pushed the thought away. His Master could be the worst person in the world, and his duties would still be the same. There was no point in trying to get what those guards had with his Master, because that would be impossible. No matter what happened, his job, his purpose, and the rest of his life were going to be dedicated to pleasing his Master, to bringing him pleasure and forgetting that Jack Zimmermann, His Highness, The Lion of the Battlefield, ever existed.

Instead, he let himself focus on the swaying hypnotism of his Master's walk, his legs moving at a graceful, rhythmic pace that reminded him of dancing in a way. He watched his Master's gait for a moment more, before focusing on their immediate surroundings. It wasn't as if he was going to need this information—the only area of the castle he needed to know his way around was the bedroom—but it was a new place, new surroundings. It helped to occupy his mind with blank, uninterested thoughts, as opposed to actively thinking, something that could no doubt destroy him.

Those thoughts carried him a couple of paces behind his Master, until they stopped at a door. There was a guard on either end, reminiscent of the way that his Master's chamber door had, and they opened the door for the two of them. His Master smiled and greeted the two guards, nodding gratefully in their directions as he swept into the room with grace and poise. His Master's father, His Royal Highness, was sitting at the head of a long table, a beautiful woman, who he assumed was his Master's mother, at his side.

“Mom,” his Master greeted excitedly, moving forward quickly to pull his mother into a long and loving hug.

“Bitty,” she responded, tone just as loving as she wrapped her arms around his Master, free with her affections towards her son.

His Master turned towards His Royal Highness, pulling him into a much quicker and less intimate hug. “Father.” He noticed that his Master's tone was a bit more stiff than with his mother, but it was to be expected, he supposed. It was no less loving, however, he noticed.

“Eric. Good evening.” The King motioned towards the seat at his other side, watching his Master sit. He followed obediently, taking the proper stance next to his Master when they were done. “How was your night?”

He could feel his body stiffen, the ever present fear filling him. No doubt, his Master would tell of his disobedience the night before. He could almost feel the phantom sting of the whip, and he wanted to shiver, would have had he not feared making the punishment worse.

“It was good,” his Master responded, and he almost fell over in shock. What was going on? What was his Master trying to accomplish? Why was his Master lying?

His Master's father nodded, and he kept his eyes averted but he couldn't feel the King's gaze on him, heavy and suffocating. “And was his training sufficient for you? Or should we send him back for a time to learn something new?”

His Master coughed, almost choking on the wine he'd been taking a sip of. He made an aborted move towards his Master, scared for a moment, before realizing that the danger had passed and falling back into position. “What do you mean, Father?”

“Does he please you sexually? I have seen many young men of the court come into their age, and those who were given their own pleasure slaves could not keep their hands off of them for quite a while, and especially not after the first night. But there is a distance here, and that only happens if the slave is incompetent. He is obviously too valuable to discard, but he can be trained some more. Is that what you would like?”

His Master opened his mouth to say something, but all he could utter was a tiny squeak. His Master's face got even redder, and he knew then that his theory that his Master was a virgin had just been confirmed. Clearing his throat, his Master took a deep breath, and turned to his father. “I, uh,” his Master started. “I didn't actually sleep with him.”

“You didn't sleep with him.” It was not a question, and His Highness's tone was flat. It sent a shiver through his spine, and he could feel a whimper catch in his throat, though he dared not let it escape.

“No,” his Master replied. “I was feeling a bit sick to my stomach. I'm not sure if it was something I ate or something else. But because I was not feeling well, I simply went to sleep. Today was spent making sure that I felt better, so I have not yet had a chance to fully indulge.”

His Highness stared his Master down, before nodding. “That makes more sense. How are you feeling now?”

“Still a bit under the weather, but it should be fine within the next day or so.”

A nod greeted his Master's words. “And when you feel better?”

“Then I will take part in the gift that you have given me.”

“Good.” His Royal Highness's tone was brusque, but understanding. “Because you may be nervous, and that is fine. That is probably what is causing your upset stomach. But if you cannot do something as simple as consummate this ownership, then you've obviously not reached manhood. This gift that I have given you is one of great value. Enjoy it, because if you do not, I can assure you that there are those in the court who would enjoy it much more than you would, believe me.”

His Master nodded, and Jack's eyes moved ever so slightly to watch his Master's body language. Taking a deep breath that hopefully nobody else saw, he moved into another position that he'd been shown, one that he hated but would eagerly take if it meant possibly staying with his Master, who was obviously on of the better Masters. His body began to curl in on himself, and he closed his eyes as he rested his head on his Master's thigh, breath hot and heavy and aimed towards his Master's groin.

“See,” His Highness pointed out, voice pleased. Something loosened in his chest at the tone, and he placed his hands behind his back, trying to lost himself in the heat and scent of his Master as he panted in a way that suggested a want to please. “He has been trained well, quite obviously. It is obvious that he will easily bring you into being a man. So take a day or two, compose yourself, and take what is yours, or I will be forced to sell him to someone who will truly appreciate the hard work that had been put into him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is a pretty tame chapter, but there is a distinct lack of self in Jack, so if that is something that would bother you, please take care of yourself first <3

There was something almost relaxing about the way his Master was pacing in front of the fire. Relaxing, that is, until he remembered _why_ his Master was pacing so anxiously. If his Master didn't use him for his purpose, he would be given to someone else, someone who _would_ use him and enjoy every second of it.

The very thought made him nauseous, his stomach rolling and his throat feeling like it was going to close. This wasn't about him, though, he knew. This was about his Master having been given a right to him. He was nothing. His Master was everything. His only purpose in life was to bring pleasure to his Master. He didn't know what it was that was causing such hesitation in his Master, but he knew that he was trained well enough to bring his Master to forget all of that.

His Master stopped pacing, walking over to him and placing a hand on his head. He leaned his head into the touch, eyes closing as fingers ran through his hair. Yes, he thought, he could do this. He had been blessed to have a Master with kind and gentle hands. He had no right to refuse him regardless, but kind and gentle hand would be loving and tender in bed. Never mind that he would rather avoid being touched for the rest of his life. That was not his choice. So he pushed his head farther up, eyes looking up at his Master through his eyelashes. It felt wrong at first, going against his training so blatantly, but his Master's orders were of a higher priority, and he knew that it would help his Master let go.

He was pretty. All the men from his training had said so, and all of them especially loved to comment on his eyes. They were beautiful, they said, especially when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. He used this, feeling a small sense of pride as his Master's eyes widened, pupils dilating ever so slightly and breath catching.

He wasn't too broken. He could still instill desire in others. He would not be thrown to someone with mean, rough hands. All of this ran through his head, relief filling him, as he leaned forward even more. He pushed his forehead softly into his Master's thigh, inches away from his Master's cock.

“What are you doing?” his Master asked, bewilderment lacing his voice. “Speak to me.”

That wasn't right. His Master was supposed to be excited, was supposed to be undressing. That was how it always went.

Then he remembered. Of course. His Master was a virgin. No one had ever done this before. He had to be blunt, let his Master know what was going on, teach him what it felt like to have someone pleasuring him.

He looked up again, licking his lips and watching as his Master's eyes followed the movement. “I thought that it would please you to fuck my mouth, Master. It is a good way to relieve tension, and the trainer did an excellent job teaching me how to take a cock. I am yours to use as you please, Master.”

His Master's face turned more and more green with every word he spoke, until he finally bolted, running towards a door. As his Master opened the door, he noticed that it was the door to a bathroom. His Master fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and suddenly his Master's lunch was emptying itself into the waiting porcelain bowl. His Master heaved for a while, and he looked on in concern, wanting to move and comfort him, but not knowing whether or not he was allowed to move.

It wasn't long, however, before his Master ceased vomiting and braced himself above the toilet, chest heaving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ransom. Holster,” his Master called out, and the guards from earlier came in, smiles dropping as they saw his Master hunched over in the bathroom.

“Oh my god, Bits, are you okay?” They rushed towards him, kneeling and placing comforting hands on his Master's back.

His Master laughed mirthlessly. “I don't know. I don't think so. Holster, can you please get someone to come clean this up? I got some on the seat.”

The taller one, who he assumed was Holster, nodded vigorously and got up. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

The other one helped his Master up, walking him to the bed and sitting him down. “Do you want me to go get Shitty?” the guard asked. His Master shook his head. “I'm not sick.”

He was worried for his Master, knowing that it was his job to comfort and please, and he tentatively moved forward, shuffling quietly. The guard's head shot up. “Bits, do you want him here right now, or should I move him elsewhere?” As he spoke, the guard motioned towards him, and his Master looked up.

“It's okay,” his Master said, voice creaky.

He crawled to his Master's side, gently pushing his head into his Master's thigh once more, comforting instead of sexual this time. His Master's hand came to rest in his hair just as before, and he wrapped his arms loosely around his Master's leg, eyes closing as he rested his head in his Master's lap, nuzzling his hip sweetly.

“He's a good one,” the guard murmured quietly, and his Master burst into tears.

His eyes snapped open and he lifted himself up, his knees still on the ground but his hands rubbing his Master's thighs soothingly as he made comforting sounds. He didn't understand why his Master's mood had gone downhill so quickly, but he was there to help regardless.

His Master, however, shook his head. “No. Please, stop. I just need a moment.”

He pulled away as if he'd been burned, falling back to sit on his heels as his hands dropped into his lap. Everything screamed at him that he wasn't doing his job properly, but his Master had spoken and he knew that he must obey.

The guard stepped in, pulling his Master into a gentle hug. He couldn't help the pit of dread that opened in his stomach as his Master accepted the guard's touch willingly, folding his small body into the guard's bigger build, much different from the reaction to his own touch.

“Come on, Bits,” the guard murmured, eyes pulled down in sorrow. “Talk to me, please. What's wrong?”

His Master's sobs got stronger and his body shook as he clutched the guard tightly. “I can't do this,” he gasped. “I can't. I just can't.”

“Can't do what?” The guard's voice was soft, comforting.

“Can't touch him.” His Master's voice broke as he pointed in the direction where he was kneeling, and he could feel himself beginning to lose the ability to breathe.

The guard's eyes flicked over to him, and he looked down quickly. He'd only been given permission to look his Master in the eyes, after all. “What's wrong with him? And couldn't you just ask for a different one?”

“ _No_!”

The vehement protest surprised them both, and he flinched, eyes immediately finding his Master again.

“Why not, Bits? I don't understand.”

His Master shook his head. “He's perfect. That's the problem.”

At that moment, the other guard walked in with a servant, stopping short at the sight of his Master crying in the arms of his partner. He shooed the servant into the bathroom, going in and closing the door behind them. The shorter guard, who he assumed was Ransom, kept comforting his Master for a few more moments before the taller guard came out with the servant, ushering them out quickly and making sure the door was firmly shut.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“Get Shitty,” the other one replied.

“No,” his Master hiccuped. “I told you I'm not sick.”

“You're not sick, but you know that he knows how to comfort you better than anyone,” the guard shot back. He looked up. “Get Shitty,” he insisted.

“Got it,” he responded, hurrying back out.

It was only a few minutes before the guard burst in again, this time with a man who had the longest hair he'd ever seen. The man took one look at his Master and rushed over.

“Fuck, Bits. Are you okay?”

His Master shook his head, body heaving with every unsteady breath he took. That was all the man needed.

“Thanks for getting me, guys. You can go back to guarding the door, even if it's from the inside. We just can't crowd him.”

The guards nodded, taking their posts after gently rubbing his Master's back once more. They watched the man with the long hair and his Master intently.

“Hey, Bits,” the man murmured, letting his Master take his time to look at him. He smiled gently at his Master and nodded. “Keep your eyes on me, and breathe with me, okay?”

It took some time, and a few restarts when his Master's breathing would catch and the sobs would threaten to start again, but the man eventually got his Master to breathe properly again.

“Good,” the man murmured approvingly. “Now, do you think you can tell me what all of that was about?”

His Master took another deep breath, just barely nodding.

“I just...” his Master started, looking straight at him. The man's eyes followed his Master's, and he could feel the piercing, intelligent stare even when he lowered his eyes. It was a little unnerving.

“Yeah?” the man prodded. “What is it about him?”

His Master kept his eyes on him, and with the way they were moving, it looked as if he was searching for something. He did nothing, simply letting his Master do as he pleased. His Master patted his lap invitingly. In response, he crawled over, head bowed, before butting it softly into his Master's thigh, showing him the regard he felt.

“This is exactly what it is about him.” His Master's voice was laced with frustration, and his anxiety began to ramp up, only slightly calmed by the hand that began stroking through his hair. “Look at how _perfect_ he is.”

“I don't… understand,” the man with the long hair replied slowly. “Of course he is. Your father only ever wants the best for you.”

His Master laughed bitterly, and the hand that was in his hair trailed down to his chin, bringing his head up so that he could look at his Master's face.

“Who do you belong to?” his Master asked softly.

“You,” he responded confidently, only for his stomach to sink as pain crossed his Master's face.

His Master continued nonetheless. “Who are you?”

“Whoever you want me to be.”

“What do you want?”

“To please and serve you.”

“Do you miss the man you once were?”

A shake of his head. “He was incomplete without you.” The words tasted like ash, and he could vaguely recall memories of true happiness, of a life where no one owned him, but he pushed them down. That had not been for a long time and would never be again.

The more he spoke, the more emotional his Master began to become, and the more his Master's hands shook where they were ever so carefully cupping his face. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see understanding dawn on the face of the long haired man.

“It bothers you that he was once a prince.”

His Master nodded, hands falling away as his face crumpled as if he were once again on the verge of tears. When his spoke, his voice sounded broken and hurt.

“Our places could have so easily been reversed. I was months away from being sent to the war. We both know that I would have never lasted. I would have surrendered, and I would have gone through everything he's gone through. Last night, I saw him, and he took my breath away. I was too tired last night, not mention too nervous, to take him to bed last night, but I'd planned to eventually. I'd been so excited to get my first pleasure slave, had shopped so long for the perfect collar, the perfect toys, perfect everything. And then...”

His Master trailed off, and the long haired man rubbed his back soothingly. “Take your time.”

His Master's eyes closed, and his face was so full of pain that he couldn't help but move forward, curling at his Master's feet and laying his head on them.

His Master leaned down, surprising him by pulling him up on the bed and patting his lap gently. He immediately laid his head down on his Master's lap, still feeling trepidation for where his Master's story was heading. With everything he had in him, he hoped that his Master's current state was not because of him.

He could feel his Master's hands stroking his hair and face sweetly, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and relaxing as much as he possibly could. Yes, he thought again. He could do this. He would be able to endure.

After taking a deep breath, his Master continued. “Gods, Shitty, you should have seen it. We got into bed, and I really just wanted to curl up with him and get some sleep. But he thought I wanted more. Honestly, I get it. I would have thought the same in his place. He took off his clothes, and when I touched him to tell him that I just wanted to sleep, nothing more—“

He shuddered, knowing exactly where this was going and hating himself for how badly he'd messed up. Making an apologetic noise, he buried his face in his Master's lap, hands clutching his Master's thigh and turning his entire body in the most submissive pose he could think of.

His Master kept petting him, keeping his touches light and kind. “It's okay,” he murmured softly. It didn't help much, and he kept himself submissive but quieted almost instantly. The last thing he wanted was to annoy his Master.

The hands in his hair stopped, and he could feel his Master's body curl over him. “He had a panic attack, Shitty.”

The man made a sympathetic noise, and his Master's fingers traced his ear gently. “How bad was it?”

His Master resumed petting him, seeking out all the spots that had him relaxing involuntarily. “He practically threw himself off of the bed before throwing up and passing out. Fuck, but you should have heard the noises he was making too. I don't think I'll ever be able to get them out of my head.”

The man let out an audible breath. “Shit, man. What happened after he passed out?”

“I picked him up and put him on the bed. It was hard, but I didn't wanna call Ransom and Holster in where they could see him so vulnerable. I cleaned up too. There was no way I was going to let anyone see how defenseless he was. Then I just let him sleep. I pulled up that armchair and slept in it, then when I woke up I read a book.”

“So what now?”

His Master sighed. “I don't know. I lied to him earlier, told him I'd never wanted a slave, even though I really did. But now I don't want one anymore. The last thing I want is to take him to bed, because all I can think about is how I would feel if someone did that to me. But Father said that he'll be taken away from me if I don't sleep with him.”

The long haired man hummed. “Why would he do that?”

A shrug. “He says that he put a lot of effort into getting me the perfect gift, and that if I'm going to be ungrateful and let it rot, then he'll just take him away and give him to someone who _will_ use him.”

“And I'm guessing you don't want that?”

He could feel a shudder run through his Master's body. “Of course I don't. I don't know how the hell he's letting me touch him right now. If I was in his place, I would rather die than let anyone touch me, much less willingly go up to someone and submit to them. To let someone take him from me and do gods know what to him is something I don't ever want to happen. In my father's eyes, he currently belongs to me, and I don't want that to change.”

“Have you asked him what he wants?”

His Master fell into silence, and the hands in his hair stilled once more. The silence lasted for a few moments before his Master responded. “Only what you saw earlier. But you heard what he said.”

The man sighed, and a hand covered his Master's, squeezing gently before pulling it away. “There are a few things you need to see here. It's good that you're empathizing with him, that you're trying to put yourself in his shoes. You know that I've never approved of this whole slave business, and you're beginning to see why. But you also need to recognize that while putting yourself in his shoes is a good start, you haven't been through even a fraction of the shit he's been through. You don't know why he surrendered. You don't know what he went through to go from one of the most feared princes to a submissive slave who feels that his only purpose in life is to serve you. You don't know if the panic attack was a one time thing born from trauma, or if he has an actual anxiety disorder. There are so many things you don't know about him, and you need to take time to learn them. Do it slowly, of course, because you have to take your own mental health into account, but do it. Push him gently when he gives you the answers that he's obviously been trained to give, but respect his boundaries. I can help too if you want.”

His chest tightened, just the thought of talking of those things freaking him out. He couldn't help but tense up in trepidation, and the man with the long hair noticed.

“Hey, it's okay,” he soothed, and his voice was so kind that he couldn't help but relax ever so slightly. Most of the tension stayed however, his body still thrumming with fear. He had no idea how his Master was reacting to all of this.

“Shitty's right, sweetheart. You're okay.”

The tension began to drain slowly from his body, leaving only what always accompanied him, as his Master's reassurance.

“Hey, Bits,” the long haired man started. “Before you can get to know him, you need to be able to help him regain his sense of self. And endearments aren't really going to do that. Maybe later they'll help, but right now you need to refer to him by his name. It's going to take some time, but he'll get there eventually if you're just patient. Remember, he may not believe it anymore, but he is a person, and he is deserving of so much more than this.”

“Thanks, Shitty.” His Master's voice was full of relief, and he mentally thanked the long haired man for helping his Master when he had been so obviously inadequate.

“You're welcome, Bits. You know I'm here any time you need me, not just when you're sick.”

“I know.” His Master's voice was bashful. “Thank you.” He could feel his Master's body shift to look back at the door. “I guess Ransom and Holster went back outside the doors.” His Master turned back to the long haired man. “Would you like to stay for a while? I wanna figure out how I can get my father to believe that I'm sleeping with Jack without actually going through with it.”

“Of course I can, Bits. Is it fine with Jack if I stay?”

His Master made a noise of remembrance. “Jack, do you mind if Shitty stays and talks with me for a while?”

He was confused. He didn't understand why on earth his Master would ask his permission for something, even taking into account everything the long haired man had said, but he nodded regardless. Even if he hadn't wanted the man around he would have nodded, but this was an intriguing man, and he had a nice voice.

“Thank you, Jack. Okay, Bits, so His Highness is leaving some time today, if he hasn't already left, to go speak with King Zimmermann about the transfer of the prisoners of war and the discussion of a treaty to officially end the war...”

He felt a pang of nostalgia at the mention of his father, but stomped it down quickly. Deciding that this was one conversation he didn't really want to listen to, he shut his eyes and let himself fall into the haziness his anxiety brought. The words danced easily over his head, meaningless sounds in the little buzz in his brain, and he had no interest in decoding their meaning. Their voices were soft, soothing, and before he even knew it, he'd fallen fast asleep in his Master's lap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long guys  
> I haven't been particularly motivated to write, and then when I was, my laptop fucked up and lost what I'd written so that set me back in both progression and motivation  
> Anywho, here's the latest chapter  
> I just finished it, so it's not betaed yet, but I'll be editing it here as soon as it gets betaed  
> To those of you who've stuck with this so far, thank you <3 You guys are the best  
> And for those who've commented their support, even more thank you. You guys are the reason I haven't just let this story fester and fall apart like all my other wips

He woke up the next morning in a different position than the one he'd fallen asleep in, curled up on his Master's bed and wrapped around his Master protectively. It was warm, and he was content to stay curled up for a little while longer.

His Master was tiny against him, arms wrapped around a pillow and body tucked snugly into the crevices of his body. He felt a surge of something that he couldn't name as he looked down at his Master, a feeling that was almost bittersweet. In another life, in another universe, a scene like this could be one where both of them had come together of their own volition, Jack and Eric, instead of their current situation. But, he mused as he settled back in a let the drowsiness pull him into the beginnings of a light doze, any chances of that happening were long gone. Hope was futile and reckless.

He woke again what felt like minutes later, but was probably a few hours based on the way the light coming in from the windows had changed. He was unsure what it was that had woken him, until he felt movement coming from his Master, and he looked down to see his Master trying to silently extricate himself from where he was holding his Master close.

“Good morning, Master.” He let go of his Master, rubbing his eyes and yawning while he stretched the kinks out from his body.

“Good morning, Jack.”

He stopped mid-stretch, opening his eyes and staring at his Master in shock. He hadn't been addressed by his name in months, and it didn't even feel like his name anymore. It felt like the name of a stranger. He finished up the rest of his stretch quickly, a strange feeling burrowing itself underneath his skin.

As he was getting out of the bed, a couple of servants bustled into the room with a tray of oils and soaps. They walked into the bathroom, turning on the faucet in the tub and mixing in some oils and setting everything up. He watched them discreetly, confused when they all left as soon as the bath was set. He wondered at it for a moment, before the truth smacked him in the back of the head. That was right. His Master had him now. It was his job now to bathe his Master. The idea sent a small chill through him, but he squared his shoulders and crawled forward to where his Master was undressing next to the tub.

His Master seemed startled when he appeared next to the tub as well, silently reaching out to help him undress. Shaking his head, his Master stepped back, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done wrong.

“Jack, don’t worry about it. I’m an adult now. I’m capable of bathing myself.”

He looked up, meeting his Master’s eyes with confusion. “You shouldn’t have to, Master. It is my duty.”

His Master’s eyes softened, and a warm hand rubbed his arm. “It’s okay. I know you don’t want to.”

His eyebrow furrowed as he tried to process what was going on, and his Master finished undressing himself, stepping into the hot water. Feeling as if he had to do something, he knelt down next to the tub and handed his Master a bar of soap, holding the tray that the servants had left behind.

As his Master busied himself with the bath, he bowed his head, running over the events of the past couple of days in his head. It was barely his third day of being with his Master, if one counted the night that he’d been presented. And yet, nothing had happened.

Of course, he knew that wasn’t true.

Much had happened. But none of it was what he’d been expecting. By this time, he would have expected to be in the bath with his Master, doing whatever was bid of him. He didn’t understand it. He had been trained, quite thoroughly. He was not lacking in any physical aspect. Granted, his body was not as strong as it once was, due to the fact that he was no longer fighting and training the way he used to. But he had been fed well during his training, and he was still exercising to keep his body toned and beautiful.

And his Master desired him. He knew that without a fact. Many things were different in this new land, but the waves of lust that he could inspire in others were the same. Even if he had never much reciprocated it, he knew that they existed. He saw those same looks in the eyes of his Master.

He didn’t understand it.

He belonged to his Master, body, mind, and soul. His Master knew this. And yet, nothing. But why?

The question ran circles through his head, and he chased it relentlessly. There had to be a reason. His Master had told the man with long hair, the one his Master called Shitty, that he had been excited to receive a slave. It made sense, he supposed. Though slavery had been long outlawed in his old kingdom, to his Master it was a celebration of his coming of age. Coming of age was the most important part of a man’s life. So then it had to be something he had done, some way he had messed up so that his Master didn’t want him. As he mulled over the thought, he was suddenly struck with the memory of what his Master had said to the long-haired man after confessing his excitement.

Of course. It all made sense. All of this was his fault. He had to be stupid and fuck everything up. He’d let the fear overtake him. He’d panicked and pulled away and passed out, and in doing so he’d scared his Master. His Master was, for whatever reason, set on this strange goal of treating him like a person, instead of the possession he was. It was perplexing. But then again, he reasoned, even before his Master had come up with this strange idea, he was the one who had thrown such a dramatic display. It was no wonder his Master was reacting the way that he was. He had failed so spectacularly at being a good slave. This was all on him.

So how could he fix this problem that he’d created? He had to convince his Master to use him, somehow, or he would be taken away. Even after such a miniscule time with his Master, he could tell that a life in his Master’s possession would be infinitely preferable to a roll of the dice. He’d heard stories while on the battlefield, stories of how certain masters treated their slaves. He would never forget them. But more importantly, he would never forget his training. He would do anything to get away from being treated like that again, and his Master was so good to him.

He wanted so badly to stay.

The ensuing moment of silence briefly brought him back to himself, and he could acutely feel how unfocused his eyes were, how lax his body was, minus the tray that we was still holding. For just a moment, his eyes refocused, and he watched his Master in the process of rinsing himself off.

The answer suddenly hit him. His Master wanted to treat him like a person. Sure, he didn’t understand why, but he knew how he could use that to his advantage. Before, in his previous life, when he wanted someone, he seduced them. Yes, it had been a while, during his more destructive days, but he was sure that he could remember a few things.

He was startled out of his thoughts by his Master standing up in the tub and stepping out. He set the tray down, fluidly standing back up and grabbing a towel to wrap around his Master’s shoulders as an idea popped into his head..

His Master blinked owlishly up at him as he leaned in ever so slightly, pitching his voice low. “May I please dress you, Master?”

His Master’s mouth dropped open a little bit, although he quickly seemed to realize it and shut it. His Master cleared his throat, and he watched his Master intently. “I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do, Jack.”

Jack moved so that he was in front of his Master, towering build slowly sinking down onto his knees. “But I do want to, Master. Please?”

His Master squeaked, face exploding into a red flush as he cleared his throat again. “Uh… I guess you can, yes. But let me put my own underwear, okay?”

“Whatever pleases you, Master.”

He averted his eyes out of deference for his Master’s wants as his Master pulled on his underwear, before grabbing the pants from the top of the pile. As he gently guided his Master’s feet to step into each of the pant legs, his Master made a quiet noise.

He looked up, hands stilling momentarily. “Yes, Master?”

His Master watched him with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth a few times before speaking. “I was just wondering. You seemed distracted while I was bathing. Were you thinking about something in particular?”

He was surprised. He hadn’t thought that his Master would have noticed. But then again, he reasoned, he _had_ been out of it for a little bit.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t mind telling you. I apologize, Master.” He resumed dressing his Master, and as he guided the pants up his Master’s lean thighs, he looked up. “I was simply considering the many ways in which I can learn to better please you, Master.” His fingers deftly swept around the waistband of his Master’s pants, not-so-accidentally brushing his Master’s skin as they did so, before he buttoned and zipped them up.

He stood up, taking silent note of his Master’s red face and suddenly labored breathing and mentally preening at what a good job he was doing.

“You already please me, Jack.” His Master’s voice was soft, a little strained, and as he ran his hands up his Master’s side to encourage his Master to lift his arms, his Master’s voice took on an almost reedy note.

“Thank you, Master.” He made his voice soft, demure, hands deftly sliding his Master’s shirt onto his Master’s body. Leaning down ever so slightly to arrange the collar on his Master’s shirt, he made sure to… accidentally bring his mouth close to his Master’s ear.  “It is my utmost pleasure to serve you, Master.”

He was absolutely certain that his breath was fanning over his Master’s ear, and he couldn’t help but notice the way that his Master shivered in front of him. Yes, he thought. He was good at this. He could be good.

He moved to stand once again in front of his Master and leaned down, towering over his Master. His Master’s eyes made contact with his own, and uncomfortable though he was, he knew that it would be a good idea to hold the eye contact. He let his gaze flicker however, lingering on his Master’s lips as his tongue came out to wet his own.

It was all calculated movement, small gestures to plant the idea in his Master’s head that this was something he wanted. He prayed that it would be enough.

His Master’s pupils widened, breath coming audibly quicker as he swallowed. He could tell that his Master’s entire being was aching for him, and he parted his lips as he leaned down ever so slowly, hyper aware of his Master’s every response. His Master made a needy little sound, seemingly without even realizing it, and his heart beat faster as his lips got closer and closer to his Master’s.

He repeated to himself over and over that it would be alright. It would be okay. His Master was kind. This experience, repulsive though it seemed, would save him. His Master was good.

“Jack,” his Master whispered, body turning up towards him, opening up the way a flower did in the sun’s rays.

“Master,” he murmured in reply, voice low.

The word seemed to send a lightning bolt through his Master. His Master stiffened suddenly, eyes going wide, body language closing off as he backed away quickly. “No no no. _No_.”

He internally cursed himself, taking a step back in instinct at the sudden frustration that was coming off of his Master in waves.

“God _dammit_ , Bittle,” his Master growled, pacing suddenly and running his hands through his damp hair. “Have some self control.”

He watched his Master pace and berate himself, his frustration seeming to build up as he worked himself up even more. Seeing his Master this way brought about the fear, rising up deep in his chest and sending out it dark tendrils to stiffen all the muscles in his body, especially the ones that made it possible to breathe.

‘ _Please don’t be mad. I’m so sorry_.’

He couldn’t think anything else, his Master’s negative energy suffusing through the room and making the sensation of choking even worse. He wanted to claw away at his throat until the feeling stopped, but he instead dropped to his hands and knees, crawling to where his Master had his forehead pressed against the wall.

“Master?” he choked out timidly, pressing his torso to the floor and supplanting himself to his Master. “I’m so sorry, Master. I can do better, Master. I accept any punishment that you want to give me, Master.” His body shook in fear, voice cracking every other word. He’d really messed up this time. He knew it. His Master was angry and it was all his fault, just like it always was. He hoped that his Master didn’t choose the whip for him, but if his Master did, then he would take it without screaming, the way he’d been taught.

He fisted his hands into the floor beneath him, knuckles turning white with the pressure he was using. “Please forgive me, Master.”

A hand placed itself on his head and he tensed every muscle in his body to the point of pain so that he wouldn’t flinch. The hand gently ran over his hair, down his face, and under his chin, where it gently applied pressure that indicated that his Master wanted to look him in the face. He complied, lifting his face. He was prepared to the anger that must have been written all over his Master’s face, only to be surprised to find sorrow in its place.

“Master?” His voice was quiet, hesitant. He didn’t understand what was going on.

“Oh, Jack,” his Master breathed. He only then realized that his Master was crouching down, lowering himself to Jack’s level. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

More soothing than the soft, apologetic tone were the actual words themselves. He’d never before been reached out to in this way. His Master was being kind, was letting a trangression pass, or at least that’s what it looked like to him.

Still, he felt compelled to apologize again. He opened his mouth to do so, but only succeeded in making a wounded noise.

His Master’s face became even more sorrowful at the noise, and he felt horrible for putting his Master through such a trial. “Oh, you poor man. What on earth did they do to you?”

He closed his eyes, trying to fight the memories of the beatings, of the men, and turned his head away from his Master, who made a quiet noise of pain.

Immediately, he turned back to his Master, opening his eyes and trying to comfort him. “It’s okay, Master. Please don’t be sad.”

His Master laughed bitterly, moving so that he was on his knees instead of still crouching. “You’re trying to comfort me.” His Master laughed again, a note of tears in the sound. “I should be comforting you. I’m so sorry, Jack. Oh, I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry for this stupid fucking war our parents waged. I’m sorry for the things they did to you, things that I’ll never even begin to understand. I’m sorry that you must be so confused about everything that’s going on. I’m sorry that you’ve got my father’s threat hanging over your head. I’m sorry that I still don’t know what to do or how to act or how to keep from freaking you out every single day. I forgot that you were here, and I didn’t stop to think that my frustration with myself must translate to you as anger towards you. I forgot and I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so sorry, Jack.”

He looked at his Master, heart breaking a little to see such beautiful eyes filled with sorrow and tears. He raised his body up off of the floor, cupping his Master’s face tenderly with his hands as he wiped away the tears. At least, he mused, he could do this. He could wipe away the tears that his horrible mistakes caused.

His Master looked at him with such deep emotion that it made him slightly uncomfortable, but nevertheless, he kept wiping away the last bits of moisture from his Master’s face.

Sniffling, his Master began to stand up, pulling him up as well. His Master wiped his arm over his face, before taking a deep breath. “God, I’m such an emotional mess lately.” His Master took another deep breath, and he mimicked his Master. It looked like he wouldn’t get punished, although he couldn’t fathom why, much less why his Master had felt the need to apologize to _him_.

His Master let the breath out in a _woosh_ , and stood up a little bit taller. “It’s okay,” his Master murmured, almost to himself. “You can do this. Move forward.” His Master then looked at him, smiling kindly. “Would you like to get out of this room and go do something?”

He tilted his head, regarding his Master curiously. “If it would please you, Master, it would please me.”

His Master shook his head, but he could feel none of the earlier frustration. “I’m asking what _you_ want, Jack. Do you want to get out of this room?”

He blinked at his Master, running the question in his mind over and over, considering every angle. It seemed almost like a trick question, something designed to trap him and warrant a punishment. But no, he thought. If his Master wanted any excuse to punish him, his latest behavior would be more than enough reason.

Still, he didn’t know what the correct answer to his Master’s question was. However, considering it from every angle, it seemed as if his Master didn’t want to be cooped up anymore, and had therefore suggested an outing, although what kind he wasn’t sure. So he decided to risk it. “Yes, I want to, Master.”

His Master beamed at him, and he felt a wave of relief that he’d chosen the correct answer. “Perfect! I have just the little trip in mind. But first, you need a bath. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up.”

He nodded, taking a step towards the tub where his Master had bathed only a short time ago and looking at his Master questioningly.

His Master perked up, shaking his head. “Oh no, you don’t have to take a bath in my dirty water.” As he spoke, his Master began walking towards the doors. “I’ll have the servants set you up a nice hot bath. Just pull the plug there at the bottom of the tub.”

As he did so, his Master poked his head out of the doors, speaking to the guards in a friendly and hushed tone, before closing the door. His Master headed to the closet, throwing it open and perusing through the clothes inside.

He watched raptly as his Master would look at him, then back inside the closet. His Master’s mouth twisted in thought, before he headed once more to the doors. When they closed once more, he watched in more confusion as his Master headed to the bookshelf.

“Come here,” his Master beckoned.

He obeyed silently, standing next to his Master and bowing his head respectfully. “How may I be of service, Master?”

His Master gestured towards the bookshelf. “Pick one.”

He blinked, looking from the bookshelf to his Master and back again. “Pardon me, Master?”

“Well, the water heater is going to take a little while to heat up some more water since I always use way too much when I take my baths, and Holster is grabbing a change of his clothes to tide you over until I can get you to my tailor, and that’s going to take a moment, so it’s best that we have something to keep us both occupied until those things come. We can go once you’re all bathed and ready.”

He stared at his Master for a moment, before turning his body language into something a little more flirtatious. As much as he would love to sit down and read something until his bath came, he couldn’t forget what it was that he needed to accomplish. “Couldn’t we occupy our time in other, more pleasurable ways, Master?”

His Master stared back at him, eyes flicking all over his face, obviously looking for something. His Master’s mouth opened and closed a few times, before his Master closed his eyes and took a long and calm deep breath. “Jack, I know what you’re trying to do. I’m not going to sleep with you. You are worth more than a pleasure slave. I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of sleeping with you. You would need to want it, and I don’t think you do.”

“Please, Master.” As much as he tried, he couldn’t hide the note of desperation in his voice. He reached out, gently touching his Master’s arm and rubbing the skin in an effort to keep from falling to his knees and begging, and not in the pretty way that he’d been trained to do. “I _do_ want you, Master. I want to please you. Please, Master. Let me be the present I was meant to be.”

His Master took a step back and closed his eyes. “Jack, I can’t. I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

Hopelessness welled up inside of him. He was failing. He was failing miserably, and he was going to pay dearly for it when the King returned. It was inevitable.

His Master’s reached out as if to touch him, before pulling away and gesturing to the bookshelf. “Please, Jack. Just choose something to read.” Plucking what seemed to be a random book off of the shelves, his Master turned away from him, walking towards the plush armchair that his Master had been reading in the previous morning.

Filled with despair, he looked over the titles, not really taking any of them in before grabbing one that looked like it could be enjoyable (a historical account of the war his Master’s country had fought before the current one). Not seeing another armchair in the room and not particularly wanting to go near the bed, he simply lowered himself to sit on the floor, cracking open the book to the first page.

After having read the first paragraph multiple times without retaining it, he resigned himself to the fact that he probably wasn’t going to be able to read the book, at least not at the current moment. His mind was too caught up in other manners. So he stared blankly at the page as his mind ran itself around in circles, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

It seemed only seconds had passed, though in all actuality it was probably longer, before a knock sounded at his Master’s door, and the tall blonde man referred to as Holster entered at his Master’s command.

“Hey, Bits, I brought you the clothes you asked for. Where do you want them?”

He kept his eyes cast to his book, unsure of how this man would feel if they were to make eye contact. He kept silent as the man placed the clothes on the tray next to the tub, eyes still trained on the words that had ceased to make sense to him.

“What’s the plan for today, Bits? More holing up in your room?”

His eyes suddenly flicked to his Master, curious as to how his Master would respond to the flippant question. To his surprise, his Master smiled kindly and shook his head.

“Nah. I figure we should get out of here, ya know? Lord knows I need to stress bake like crazy, and I’m sure Jack could use more company than just me. What do you think, Jack?”

His head shot up at his name, and he stared at his Master, once again floundering as he tried to think of what the correct answer would be. “I… I could bask in your presence all day, Master,” he murmured demurely.

His Master’s lips pursed the tiniest bit, and he felt a sudden pang of fear, but shoved it down fiercely. His Master sighed softly and looked back up at the tall man, smiling again, although noticeably a little more forced. “Let Ransom know that I’m gonna be baking up a storm today, please. Have one of the servants go around asking people what they want and bring it to me when I’m in the kitchen. That way I know what to make and I’m not wasting food.”

The tall man grinned widely, a drastic change from the somber expression he’d worn watching him and his Master interact, and nodded. “Ransom hadn’t stopped talking about your honey peach pie for ages, and I can’t get the blueberry crumble out of my head. My tastebuds have been going crazy wanting some more. I’ll make sure that they’re written down on the list so that you don’t have to worry about remembering it, but just so you know.”

His Master’s smile was a little easier as he nodded. “I can do that, no problem. Me and Jack will stop by after I’m done and give it to you guys.”

The man bounced a little in place, obviously excited. “Oh man, I can’t wait. I can practically taste the blueberry right now. Don’t tell Ransom, please. I want him to be surprised.”

His Master smiled. “You two are cute.”

Blushing slightly, the man’s smile widened. “I just really love him, okay? And I know that surprising him with his favorite pie is a great way to end a long day.”

His Master laughed. At that moment, another knock sounded on the door, and his Master called for them to come in. The same servants from earlier came in with some of the same oils and soaps from earlier, and his Master perked up.

“Looks like your bath is here, Jack.”

He perked up as well, the thought of a nice hot bath seeming heavenly. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had one. The mental image of sitting in the hot water, steam and suds surrounding him and filling his lungs with warmth and humidity as he set to work at rubbing the grime off of his skin and out of his hair was such a beautiful one that he almost missed the unreadable look that the blonde man shot his Master.

His Master raised his hands in a manner that pleaded innocence. “I’m just treating him the way I would a guest, alright?”

The man stared at his Master for a moment more before seemingly relenting, shrugging and nodding. “I can see that.”

His Master nodded as well, and they both regarded each other silently, a million words being spoken without a single word leaving either of their mouths. As the last servant left the room, the bath steaming in the corner, the man clapped his hands together and rocked his weight onto his heels once, before standing back up properly and letting out a gush of air. The man walked over to his Master, pulling his Master in for a hug, before ruffling his Master’s hair. “I guess I should get going, Bits. Gotta give… Jack? That what you’re calling him?”

His Master nodded. “It’s his name.”

“Right. Gotta give Jack some privacy.” The man ruffled his Master’s hair once more before placing a friendly kiss on his Master’s forehead. His Master smiled fondly as the man headed out, waving behind him. “Looking forward to your guys’s visit, Bits.”

“See ya,” his Master called.

The door closed with a finality behind the man, and his Master looked over at him, looking a little less stressed already.

“Go on and take your bath while the water is still hot, Jack. We can head out when you’re ready.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys  
> I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to get this chapter up.  
> I lost a very close person that I loved in August, and I haven't really cared much about writing anything for a long time.  
> That being said, I hope you guys like this chapter. I made a few changes in some previous chapters. I didn't like the whole 'pre-technology' vibe I was trying to do, so I went back and changed a few passages. So when Bitty's phone gets mentioned, please don't be confused.  
> To those who are still paying attention to this story  
> Thank you  
> So much

A hot bath did wonders, he soon found out. Being able to lay his head back and breathe deeply while he soaked for a moment made him feel heavenly. For the briefest of moments, he let himself forget the shitstorm that was his life. He washed himself leisurely, a bit disappointed that his Master refused to watch him, but enjoying the water nonetheless.

When he was done, he got out of the tub calmly, careful not to slip in the puddles that he was dripping onto the floor. The clothes that his Master had sent for were folded on a little table near the tub, and he dried himself off quickly before getting dressed.

“Master?” he called softly, standing in a submissive posture next to him. “I'm done.”

His Master startled, sucking in a quick breath before turning towards him. His Master smiled fondly at him. “Great. Let's head out, then. I can't wait for you to meet Lardo. You're gonna love her.”

He smiled back at his Master, brain whirring as he wondered who this 'Lardo' was.

As his Master turned to walk towards the door, he hurried forward, grabbing his leash from its hook next to the door. He dropped to his knees fluidly, baring his neck so that the D-ring on his collar was exposed and holding out the leash to his Master.

He could hear his Master take a deep breath, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. “No, Jack. I won't treat you like an animal. I can't have you walk next to me, but you can stay a step or two behind.”

He felt a wave of excitement, looking up at his Master in wonder. This was amazing. Being allowed to walk that close to his Master was considered the highest of honors, reserved only for the most pleasing and submissive of pleasure slaves. He'd been told that he would have to work for years to be given such a privilege. To be given it now, when he was so unsure, was the most soothing this his Master could have done.

“Thank you, Master,” he whispered, bending down to kiss his Master's feet.

His Master ran a hand through his hair, before gently gripping his shoulder. “It's okay, Jack. You don't need to thank me.”

His Master helped him stand up, and he inclined his head respectfully. His Master pat him gently on the shoulder, before making his way out of the door. He followed behind at the same pace staying the proper distance behind him. He noticed that the guards they passed by in the hallways nudged each other, pointing and leering at him. Not wanting to see their hungry stares, he cast his eyes down, instead choosing to watch his Master's gait, examining the way his Master held himself.

Before he knew it, his Master stopped in front of some doors, pushing them open. He felt a wave of air hit his face, laden with all sorts of smells. The sudden wave of nostalgia that the smells brought with them hit him like a brick, and he blinked away the small tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes.

He didn't have long to dwell on hit, though, because a woman bustled through the kitchen, calling out his Master's name and sweeping him into a hug. His Master hugged her back. “Hi, Lardo.”

Ah. So this was Lardo. She pulled away from his Master and looked over at him, eyes piercing. He had the unsettling feeling that she could see all of who he was, and just how far he'd fallen.

“You must be Jack.”

Jack blinked at her, shocked to hear his name.

His Master did not seem to be as fazed. “So you talked to Shitty?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He didn't go int details, but he did let me know that you want people to refer to him by his name.” She shrugged. “Other than that though, it's none of my business.”

His Master nodded. “Tell him thanks when you see him. Cause you're probably gonna see him tonight, I'm guessing.”

Lardo blushed the lightest of blushes, but nodded anyways. “I guess we're not that subtle.”

His Master laughed. “No, you guys are. I just accidentally almost walked in on you both the other night. Shocked me so hard I looked like a tomato.”

Lardo nodded again before ushering them both into the kitchen. “Well, I'm sure you didn't just come to gossip. We just got a case of butter delivered this morning, so you're in luck.”

His Master clapped his hands together, grinning. “Excellent.”

He hovered awkwardly next to his Master, unsure of where to go or what to do. A servant passed by, holding a plate of steaming, seasoned meat, and he immediately heard his stomach grumble.

His Master seemed to have heard, and with a few words and motions, he was being sat down at a table with a large plate full of delicious looking food in front of him. He looked up at his Master, bewildered.

“It's alright, Jack,” his Master said, motioning towards the food. “You haven't gotten to eat today. Go for it.”

He looked between his Master and the food a few more times, before deciding that he really shouldn't disobey one of his Master's orders.

The food tasted just as good as it looked, and he loved every second of it. For the briefest of moments, he saw his Master looking at him with an unreadable expression, but he shrugged it off in favor of enjoying food that he hadn't had in ages.

By the time he was done with his food, the kitchen was eerily sparse. There were one or two servants milling about with some final tasks, but otherwise, the whole kitchen was free. His Master was bustling about the space given to him, chatting lightly with Lardo and occasionally humming a song as he gathered ingredients and measured them out.

He watched them for a moment, before looking down at his empty plate and cup. Unsure of what to do, he decided to consult his Master.

“Master?” he called quietly.

His Master stopped what he was doing, turning to him pleasantly.

“Yes, Jack?”

He motioned towards his dirty dishes. “What should I do with these, Master?”

Lardo, who'd also been paying attention, grabbed the dishes. “I'll take these to get washed. I'll be right back.” She walked out, holding the dishes, leaving him and his Master in silence.

His Master went back to what he was doing before the interruption, and he watched his Master with interest. After a moment, his Master noticed him watching.

“Do you wanna come help, Jack?”

He startled, before getting out of his seat and moving to stand awkwardly next to his Master. He itched to kneel, but he wouldn't be able to help if he did so.

“How may I help, Master?”

His Master considered as he mixed some ingredients in a bowl. “What experience do you have with baking, Jack?”

He shifted uncomfortable, casting his eyes down. “None, Master.”

His Master nodded, humming in consideration. “Do you want to hand me ingredients as I need them?

He nodded vigorously, glad to finally be of use. “I can do that, Master.”

His Master smiled fondly at him. “Can you please hand me the flour, then?”

They worked in harmonious tandem for a while before Lardo came back.

“You two look like you're having fun.”

He nodded without even having to think about it. He could tell that it pleased his Master, and that buoyed his happiness even more.

“We're about to start on putting the pie crust in the pie tin, the we'll put the filling in,” his Master informed.

Lardo nodded, smiling. “Well, I've gotta go help some of the ladies out with getting everything set up for her Highness. So I'm gonna go, but I wanted to say bye before I did.”

His Master smiled. “Okay, Lardo. I'll see you around.”

They hugged once more, and Lardo slapped his Master playfully on his back. “See ya, Bits.”

When Lardo left, his Master turned back to the task of making the pie.

“Would you like to learn how to put a pie crust in a tin, Jack?”

Jack shifted. “I'm not sure I'll do it right, Master. But I can try.”

His Master looked up at him. “Do you want to, though? I only want you to try it if you want to.”

He looked at the unassuming pie crust for a moment, before taking a deep breath and nodding. “Yes, Master. I'd like to try.”

His Master's smile was blinding, and he felt warmth bloom in his chest at the idea that he'd pleased him.

He approached the bench where his Master was preparing the pies, staring down at the crust and tin.

“Master?” he called timidly.

“Yes, Jack?” His Master voice was kind and soft. It helped.

“Could you please help me, Master? I don't know how to do this.”

“Oh, of course, Jack.”

He could feel the presence of his Master behind him, and he moved over to give his Master some room. His Master smiled at him, reaching out a hand. “Do you want to give me your hand?”

He nodded, placing his hand in his Master's. It was strange. He'd sucked off countless strange men, and yet, the feeling of his Master's warm hand cradling his own hand had him blushing.

Strangely enough, his Master seemed to be blushing too. Neither acknowledged it, however, and his Master began explaining what he was doing and how hoe was doing it, moving his hand wherever it was needed. When the crust was put in, his Master smiled and stepped back, letting go of his hand. He told himself that he wasn't disappointed.

“Okay, now you try, Jack.”

He nodded, taking another crust and tin, and did everything just as his remembered his Master saying. The end result wasn't a pretty as his Master's, but his Master seemed pleased regardless, grinning widely.

“It looks great, Jack! You did awesome.”

He blushed from the praise, looking down and smiling softly. “Thank you, Master.”

His Master smiled at him, pulling him into a warm hug. “Bitty.”

The word was muffled in his chest, and he pulled away in confusion. “Could you please repeat that, Master?”

His Master smiled nervously, which made no sense. Why would his Master be nervous?

“I said 'Bitty'. If you feel comfortable doing it, I'd like it if you called me Bitty instead of Master.”

He tilted his head to the side, staring at his Master in confusion. But, he reminded himself, this was what his Master wanted.

He took a deep breath. “Okay… Bitty.”

The name felt foreign on his tongue, and he could feel his hear rate skyrocket, sure that his Ma-… no, Bitty (no, he decided, he could call him his Master in his head) would punish him for such a large transgression. His Master's face brightened considerably, however, and it helped with the anxiety.

“Thank you, Jack.”

He nodded, at a loss for what to say, but warm from the praise nonetheless.

His Master hugged him once more, and he couldn't help but hug back, silently in awe at how small his Master was against him.

As his Master pulled away, he noticed that his Master's eyes were suspiciously watery, but his Master took a deep breath and turned back to the pies. His Master talked him through how to fill a pie and put the top crust on, before purring the first of many pies in the oven.

The more he watched his Master, the more he wanted to be of use.

“Ma- Bitty?”

His Master turned to him, looking up from the filling his Master was making. “Yes, Jack?”

“Can I help? I want to.”

“Yeah! Of course, Jack. Here,” his Master said, moving over and motioning for Jack to come stand next to him. “Do you want to put in the fillings while I make them? And then we can work on the top crusts together.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

"Great!”

They worked together, creating pie after pie. The more time went by, the more comfortable he became. The smells soothed him, and the soft sound of his Master humming bought a feeling of warmth to his chest.

By the time they were done, the both of them were ready to sit down. They sat in companionable silence, his Master scrolling through his phone and only getting up when the timer on the oven went off. His Master would check on the pie, making sure it was well baked, before putting the baked ones on cooling racks.

After the third pie was finished baking, his Master turned to him. “Jack, can I ask you something?”

He perked up, looking curiously at his Master.

“Could you tell me a story from when you were younger?”

He blinked in confusion. “A story, Bitty?”

His Master nodded. “What was something you loved to do? Who were your friends? What was your life like before the war?”

What was his life like? That was an interesting question, one that he almost didn't remember. It was lifetimes ago, blurred and muddied by the memories of bloodshed, of loss, of pain and torture. He almost didn't want to go that far back, because the taint of pain was so strong.

“Kent Parson.”

The name tumbled out of his mouth without his permission, and he was flooded with memories of every emotion possible. He missed Kent's eyes, his hair, the sweet way he'd kiss him, the fierce way they fought together on the battlefield.

“Your right hand man?”

He nodded. “He was my best friend. We've known each other since we were kids. Out parents made us sparring partners. We were always the best, and we grew to love each other deeply. When the war started, I was supposed to get sped up in training and then go out to lead my people. I would have had to leave him behind.” He chuckled softly.

“But I should have known that he would never stand for that. The day after I told him, he charged into the King's throne room and demanded that he be able to stand by my side on the battlefield.”

His Master breathed in a shocked breath. “And your father just let him?”

He nodded, a fond smile crossing his lips. “The King was as fond of him as I was. He just laughed and shooed away his guards, and the next day, it was us against the world again.”

His Master moved to better face him, body and face open towards him. “Was he there when you surrendered?”

He nodded, looking down. “He didn't want me to. We both knew what would happen, and he didn't want me to go. We'd never lived without each other before. If he'd known exactly where I would end up, I think he would have physically dragged me away from that battlefield.” He shrugged. “But neither of us could have ever guessed.”

When he looked up, Jack saw Bitty, his face full of pain and guilt.

“I'm so sorry, Jack.”

“It's okay, Bitty.

Somewhere nearby, something slammed shut, making them both jump.

He looked down again, clasping his hands together in worry. “I'm sorry. You asked for a story from before the war, not during it. I'm sorry, Bitty.”

His Master shook his head, awkwardly reaching out for a moment before pulling his hands back. “It's alright. I liked hearing your story. It helps me know you a little more.”

He nodded. “Thank you, M- I mean Bitty.”

His Master looked sad for a moment, before seeming to shake it off as the timer went off again. Once again, his Master went through the process of checking the pie, before setting it to cool, and putting a new one in.

When his master sat back down again, he was overwhelmed with the need to reassure his Master that he was not a bad Master. He moved himself off the chair his Master had told him to sit on, plopping himself on the floor at his Master's feet.

“Oh, Jack, no. You don't have to do this.”

He laid his head on his Master's thighs, feelings his anxiety over reliving everything melt away. “I want to. This is where I'm meant to be. It feels better than pretending to be an equal.”

He could almost hear his Master's brain racing, trying to figure things out.

“Do you want to see him again?”

He stiffened, slowly looking up at his Master. “See who?”

“Kent.” His Master wrung his hands together, obviously nervous. “I could sneak you into the dungeon since my dad's out of the kingdom for now. You could see him before he gets let go with the rest of the war prisoners.”

He buried his face in his Master's thigh, mind racing. Kent. He could see Kent again. He could hug him and tell him goodbye. He could-

His thoughts stopped cold. Yes, he'd see Kent, but Kent would see him too. Kent would see his Master and his collar. Kent wouldn't be able to kiss him. Kent wouldn't see Jack, because Jack was gone.

His chest hurt.

“Jack? Are you okay?”

He looked up at his Master, nodding. “I'm okay, Bitty.”

His Master nodded. “Just thinking?”

“Yes, Bitty. I...” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. This was for Kent's own good, even if Kent didn't know it. “I don't want to go see Kent.”

His Master pet his hair, looking concerned. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure, Bitty.”

“Okay. But just remember that if you change your mind, I can take you to go see him.”

“Thank you, Bitty.”

He went back to lounging his head on his Master's thigh. His Master kept petting through his hair, deft fingers playing around on his scalp and making him feel safe and loved. It reminded him of so many nights where Kent would do the exact same thing.

He missed Kent.

But Kent wouldn't know him anymore, and he didn't want to make his suffer. Kent would be home soon. He would learn to live without Jack. He had to. So he let himself get comfortable, sitting on the floor in front of his Master.

He was pulled out of his relaxation minutes later when the timer went off.

“Can you sit up for a little bit, Jack? I need to check on the pie.”

He did so, watching his Master. He didn't hesitate to go back to resting his head on his Master when his Master returned, and his Master seemed to enjoy playing with his hair, not that he was complaining.

Just like before, they fell into their own little routine, moving in tandem as his Master finished up with locking the last few pies. He watched as his Master poked his head out of the door, saying something to someone before heading back to his seat.

“We're gone let them cool a little longer,” his Master started. “In about half an hour, Lardo's assistant manager Ford is gonna come and put the pies in these cute little wrappings. I used to do it myself, but she's so much better at it than I am, so I figured I'd just giver her a raise and let her do them.”

He nodded, eyes drooping shut with drowsiness. He opened his mouth to respond, but instead, his body decided to let out a large, loud yawn.

His Master yawned as well, stretching as he did so. “Are you tired, Jack?”

He nodded, curling in closer around his Master's legs. “Sorry, Bitty,” he mumbled.

“Oh no, don't you worry your pretty little self, Jack. You've been through a lot of stress these past couple days. I'm sure that your body needs a good amount of sleep.”

His Master looked between him and the pies a few times before ushering him up. “Come on up, Jack. Ford can wrap these and I'll pay someone to deliver them. Right now, you need sleep.”

Eyes heavy, he blinked slowly and nodded, obediently following his Master back to their room. His Master helped him into bed, tucking the blankets in around him.

“Bitty?” he murmured.

“Yes, Jack?”

A pause. “Could you please sleep with me, Bitty?”

“Just sleeping?”

“Mhm. Need you with me, Bitty. You protect me.”

“Oh, Jack honey. Of course I'll protect you.”

“Thank you, Bitty.”

“Always, Jack.”

He could feel his Master crawl into bed next to him, warm and solid and safe. The softness of the blankets helped with the warm feeling of comfort. He closed his eyes, hand seeking out his Master's. The last thing he felt was the warmth of his Master's skin against his as he fell asleep.

 

~~~

 

He was bad. He was so, so bad.

Pain, terror, cold.

Where was his Master? He called out for him, screaming and sobbing.

No one came.

All alone. Cold. Hurting. Alone Alone Alone-

“Jack!”

Who was that? He couldn't recognize the voice.

Regret. Pain.

He'd disappointed his Master. He couldn't remember what he'd done, but he'd done it.

He was a bad boy.

Cold. Alone. So much fear.

“Jack! Wake up!”

The voice was suddenly so much closer. Something in him recognized it.

“Come on, Jack!”

That voice. It was warmth. It was safety. It was protection.

“Jack, please!”

He moved closer to the voice, and as he did, he could hear it more clearly. The clearer it was, the more desperate he got to reach it.

There. He could feel his body. He could move.

His eyes opened and he bolted up

“Oh my god, Jack, are you alright?”

He turned, seeing his Master. Everything made sense all of a sudden. It was a nightmare. He wasn't a disappointment. Not yet anyways. He was still a good boy.

Breathing hard and trying not to cry, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around his Master. “I'm so sorry for waking you Master,” he mumbled into his Master's chest.

“Bitty, not Master,” his Master murmured soothingly. “And don't you worry about it. I just want to make sure you're okay. That seemed like a very bad nightmare.”

He nodded, whimpering and pulling himself closer.

“Did you want to talk about it, Jack?”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he breathed in his Master's scent, warm and musky, tinged with a small touch of sweat. It was grounding, comforting. It made him feel comfortable enough to talk.

“I dreamt that you were displeased with me, Bitty. I was bad. I don't know what I did, but I was bad and they took me away from you, and I tried to call out for you but you weren't coming and I hurt and I was cold and-”

“Shh shh sh sh sh.”

His Master rocked him, making the small shushing noises until his resumed crying calmed down. His breathing was shaky, and he couldn't seem to get close enough to his Master. His Master kept petting his hair and rubbing his back, trying to calm him.

As the minutes passed, the uncontrollable hitching of his breath slowed and the warmth of his Master flowed through his body, making him a little sleepy again.

He smacked his lips, his mouth feeling dry.

“Do you want some water, Jack?”

He nodded weakly. “Yes, please, Bitty.”

He let go of his Master, sniffing and wiping the tears from his face while his Master climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a small disposable cup on the way. After a moment, his Master emerged from the bathroom with water and brought it to the bed, climbing into it and helping him steady his hand as he brought the cup to his lips.

The cool sensation of water hitting his tongue made him feel so much better, washing away a little bit of the gross, emotionally sticky feeling that crying always left him with. He reminded himself to take slow, steady drinks instead of the fast, big drinks that he wanted. He didn't want to make himself sick again. Even so, it didn't take long to empty the cup.

He sighed in relief when he was done, licking his lips.

“Better?” his Master asked.

He nodded. “A lot, Bitty. Thank you, Bitty.”

His Master smiled fondly at him. “Of course, Jack. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you.”

He turned, placing the now empty cup on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Bitty.” He reached out, grabbing his Master's hand and kissing the back of it. “You're a good Master. I'm glad I'm yours.”

“Oh Jack,” his Master whispered, rubbing his thumb over his hand. “Thank you. I hope that one day, though, you can be your own person again.”

He just nodded, neither agreeing, nor disagreeing.

“Bitty?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“Did my nap cut into your time with your guards? I recall that you said you were going to spend some time with them when you delivered their pie, but you brought me here instead.”

“Oh. Well… I mean, in a way, yes. But I'm not upset. I needed a nap anyways.”

“Um… Did you still want to go?”

“Yeah, I think so. It sounds fun.”

“You're sure?”

He nodded. “I'm sure. Besides, they're your friends. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy.”

“Okay. Yeah. Do you want to grab your leash while I put my shoes on?”

“Of course.” He crawled out of bed, padding softly to where his leash was hung up before grabbing it and taking it to his Master.

“Thank you, Jack.”

He smiled, looking down gratefully. It felt good to sink down to his knees, tilting his head to the side and presenting his collar. The feeling of his Master's warm and soft hands moving his collar and attaching the leash to it made him feel even better. His Master was so good to him, and he wanted to badly to be worthy of it.

His Master ran a hand through his hair, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Oh, how badly he wanted to stay here in this moment forever. But they were going to head out. His Master stood fluidly and he followed, ducking his head respectfully.

The walk was quick, and he was brought out of the small pol of tranquility his mind had fallen into by the sound of his Master knocking on a wooden door.

It opened suddenly, one of his Master's primary guards opening the door with a wide grin.

“Bitty! Hey! We missed you earlier. Was everything alright?”

His Master chuckled. “Hey, Holster. Yeah, everything is alright. Jack just needed a nap, and honestly so did I.”

The guard nodded, flicking his eyes over to him, and he inclined his head even more, demure in front of his Master's friend.

“Well, come on in. I'd offer you some pie, but me and Ransom already ate them.” He laughed.

His Master joined in on the laughter. “I'm not surprised.”

Holster shrugged. “Hey Ransom! Bitty's here.”

The other guard poked his head through an adjacent door. “Hey Bits!”

“Hey Ransom.”

Ransom walked into the room they were standing in, pulling Bitty into a hug. “How've you been? You alright? Normally you always deliver the pies yourself.”

His Master laughed at the question. “Well, me and Jack needed a nap”

Ransom raised an eyebrow. “Jack?”

“Yeah. I'm calling him Jack because that's his name.” His Master gestured to him.

Ransom nodded. “Okay. Welcome to our home, Jack.”

“Thank you, sure,” he mumbled.

“Did you want to sit, Bitty?” Holster asked, gesturing towards a couch.

“Yeah, thanks Holster.”

His Master sat on the offered couch, and he settled himself at his Master's knees. Ransom disappeared into the room he'd been in earlier, reappearing moments later with a tray of fruits and crackers and meats and cheeses. It was set on the table in the middle of the room.

“We had this delivered to our room so you could have something to munch on when you came,” he explained as Holster filled up a plate and handed it over to his Master.

“You guys are the sweetest.”

“Oh, it was no problem. Besides, we just put some saran wrap on it and put it in the fridge. We were gonna eat it ourselves if you didn't show up.”

His Master used a fork to pluck a piece of peach off of the tray, popping it into his mouth and humming contentedly. “It's really good.” He speared another piece, offering it to him and he gladly took it, nuzzling his face into his Master's thigh as thanks.

Ransom gave Holster a quick kiss before sitting down, and he stared at them, curious. It seemed that these two brothers in arms had found love in each other. He knew the feeling. He was glad that they seemed to have their happy ending.

“So we actually just recently got a new game. Did you want to play?”

His Master nodded. “Yeah, sounds fun. Do you want to play, Jack?” His Master offered him another piece of fruit.

He took the fruit, shaking his head. “It's okay...” He paused, eyes flicking to Ransom and Holster and gulping. “...Master.”

His Master gave him a knowing look. “It's alright, Jack. You can say it.”

His eyes flicked to the guards again, who were watching him with confusion. He shook his head again, whimpering and pressing his face into his Master's leg. “Please don't make me, Master,” he whispered.

“Do you want it to be a 'just us' thing?”

He nodded. “Please, Master.”

His Master pet his hair, making a soothing noise. “It's okay, Jack. That's totally fine.”

“Thank you, Master. I'm sorry, Master.”

“You have nothing to be worried about.”

His Master ran comforting fingers through his hair as his Master turned to Ransom and Holster. Meanwhile, he deliberately did not look at them, afraid of what he might see.

“You guys ready to get your asses kicked?” his Master asked brightly.

There was a beat of silence. Then-

“No way, you're going down,” one of the guards crowed.

The entire time, he stayed curled comfortably around his Master's legs. He smiled and congratulated his Master each time his Master won, and patted his Master's knee in consolation when he lost. In return, his Master would scratch his scalp each time he would do something, and he melted into his Master's touch.

“You like it when I play with your hair?” his Master asked at one point with a grin.

He nodded, tilting his head farther into his Master's hand. “It feels nice, Master.”

“I'm glad. I always want you to feel nice, Jack.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“You seem to be taking this a lot better,” one of the guards piped in.

“Yeah, and really quickly too,” the other one added.

His Master looked up at them, obviously having forgotten that they were guests in another's home and therefore were being watched. When the words that had caught his attention sunk in, his Master turned a bright red and looked down to where he was kneeling. He met his Master's eyes, comfortable under his gaze. He could see what his trainer had meant when he'd said that he would become attached to his Master. It had not even been a few days, and already he knew that he would happily spend his days doing anything his Master desired.

“Jack's just… enthralling, I guess.” His Master turned back to the guards, still smiling. “I still want to help him find himself, but I'm not letting myself worry about specifics. We're just taking it a moment at a time.”

“You talked to Shitty?”

A small, beautiful laugh. “I talked to Shitty.”

“Nice.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has definitely taken a turn from the sweeter events of the past couple of chapters. So read with caution please

The end of the month brought news of King Bittle's imminent return. A treaty had been quickly and diplomatically presented and accepted. Granted, there was some debate, but some end results were inevitable. The land that was being argued over was given to King Bittle's country, and in return the prisoners of war on both sides were set to be released. As soon as King Bittle returned, he would send the prisoners in caravans to their homes.

All mention of Jack was prohibited on pain of instant death of the treaty.

At least, that's what Jack had heard.

Bitty relayed the news to him in a flat voice, his face carefully blank. He internally applauded the ways in which his Master was learning to control the outward expression of his emotions. It would help them immensely when the King returned.

Externally, he pulled Bitty into his lap, burying his face in his Master's neck and nuzzling him.

“It's okay, Bitty.”

Bitty made a broken sound, turning and holding Jack close. “I just wish Father wasn't so set in the ways of the law. He could let you go so easily, and with no repercussions. It's a dumb old law that no one cares about but him. At this point, he's just being cruel.”

He shook his head. “He was raised that way. It's hard to overcome the things that have been drilled into you since childhood. Sometimes, you have to break a person to do that. He's not being cruel, he's just from a different time.”

“Stop making sense, dammit,” his Master mumbled.

He laughed softly, kissing the top of his Master's head. “Sorry, Bitty, he murmured, not sounding sorry at all.

Bitty smacked his arm lightly, kissing his cheek as he did so.

“Okay, you big brute,” Bitty joked, swinging his legs where they dangled from Jack's lap. “Let me down. I've got some preparations to oversee for Father's return.”

As his Master made to jump off of his lap, he paused and turned to him. “Jack?”

“Yes, Bitty?”

“Are you sure that you don't wanna see Kent? He'll be sent away soon, and I can't guarantee that you'll see him after that.”

He took a deep breath. God, he missed Kent so much. A month ago, it was so easy to say no. Now, he just wanted to see Kent.

“I…” He paused. This decision was much harder to make than he thought.

Bitty watched him curiously.

He took a deep breath. Swallowed. Closed his eyes and pictured Kent. And nodded.

“I want to see him.”

The burst of longing that that sentence unlocked in him surprised him. It held on tight, not wanting to let go. It almost took away his very breath with its intensity, and he wanted nothing more than to hug Kent and never let him go.

Bitty nodded. “Okay. Come on then. Let's go.”

“Now?”

“We have to. Father is due to arrive either tonight or tomorrow. We need to make sure to have enough time that you guys can really say goodbye.”

He gulped. “Okay. I'll grab my leash.”

His Master hopped off of his lap, and he grabbed his leash, letting the familiar ritual of getting ready to leave soothe the buzzing under his skin. Bitty clipped on the leash, and he leaned in from where he was kneeling, pressing the top of his head into Bitty's thighs.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so so much.”

“Hey,” Bitty soothed, running a hand through his hair. “It's alright. You don't have to thank me. I just want you to be happy, and I knew that you wouldn't be happy if he had to leave without you seeing him. I'm never gonna stop saying it, Jack. I just want you to be happy.”

He smiled, closing his eyes against the watery sensation that bloomed in his eyes. His Master’s hands kept running through his hair, soft, soothing. It made it easier to take a deep breath, stand up, and nod.

“I’m ready, Bitty.”

The walk to the wing that the prisoners were locked in made his heart beat faster, his hands turning clammy and his lungs tightening up. The earlier soothing effect of kneeling for his Master had worn off, and now he could feel the anxiety creeping in again.

His Master turned back to look at him and stopped when he saw Jack, leading him to the side and placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Jack, are you okay?”

He looked wide eyed at Bitty, shaking his head. “I’m scared.”

“What’s scaring you?”

“I haven’t seen Kent in so long. I’m not who I was. What if he tries to kiss me? What if he wants me to run away with him?”

“Oh Jack, honey.” His Master rubbed his arm soothingly. “I won’t tell you that you can’t run away. But we both know that you wouldn’t get very far, especially with Father on his way and guards crawling all over the place.”

He nodded. “I know. I wouldn’t want to leave you anyways, Bitty. You’re all I have left.”

Bitty bit his lip, obviously wanting to argue, but dropping it. “As for him kissing you. Jack, he loves you. And I know that you love him. If you want him to kiss you, I won’t stop you.”

He stared at his Master in shock. “What?”

“Really, Jack,” Bitty assured. “I won’t be mad.”

While he mentally stumbled over what Bitty had just said, Bitty lightly tugged on his arm. “Come on, Jack. We have limited time.”

He nodded, following his Master.

The guards eyes his Master curiously as they approached. “What is you purpose, Your Highness?”

His Master smiled serenely. “Hi Nursey. Hi Dex.”

“Hey there, Bitty,” the other guard greeted.

The first guard who had spoken elbowed the more casual one, causing him to hiss in pain.

“What the fuck, Dex?”

“Language,” the guard named Dex scolded. “And be more respectful.”

“Chill. Look, it’s just us. You, me, and Bits. The King isn’t here yet, there’s no need to be paranoid.”

His Master put a hand out, silently stopping the argument he could sense brewing.

“Shit, sorry Bits. What’s up?” Nursey asked.

Dex rolled his eyes and scoffed in the background. Nursey stuck his tongue out at him.

“I just need to get into this wing. There’s someone Jack needs to see before they get sent away.”

Both Nursey and Dex’s eyebrows shot up into their hairlines. They looked at each other, then back at his Master and then back at each other. They seemed to be having a conversation simply using their facial expressions, before shrugging in sync and stepping aside.

“Thank you both,” his Master called as he led Jack in.

“Our price is pie,” Nursey called out.

“Sure thing,” his Master replied.

He was surprised when he saw that the win was not made up of cells as expected, but instead tows of one way mirrors on the wall looking into rooms that looked comfortable.

“Couldn’t they just break the mirrors and escape?” he found himself asking.

His Master nodded. “They could. But they’re warned beforehand that trying to escape jeopardizes their chances of going home.”

He nodded, absently looking into the windows and stopping when he saw Kent. Kent was doing some form of exercise, body stretched, muscles straining. It made Jack remember the raw force that Kent used to use when they would fall into bed together. His skin tingled, and he focused on trying to remember how to breathe.

His Master walked up to the door, punching a code into the keypad by the door. The door audibly unlocked, and Jack saw Kent freeze, head popping up to stare at the door as it opened.

The absolute joy on Kent’s face when Jack walked in made Jack want to cry from joy. Kent surged forward, hugging Jack fiercely. Jack could feel Kent’s chest shuddering as he sobbed, and Jack ran his fingers through Kent’s hair.

The door closed behind them, and he turned to introduce Bitty to Kent, but he didn’t see his Master anywhere. He immediately bolted to the door, pounding on it. “Master?” he called, and the door opened, showing his concerned Master.

“I’m sorry. You two looked like you needed a moment alone.”

He opened his mouth to not and say that he understood, when he suddenly heard Kent’s voice from behind him.

“ _ Master _ ?”

The word was spat, his tone full of venom. “What kind of sick fuck makes another human do that?”

His Master froze, obviously shell shocked. No one ever talked to him like that.

It made Jack feel angry.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” he told Kent, stepping in front of his Master. “I call him that because that’s what he is, because he’s a good Master. He takes care of me.”

“Takes care of you? Jack, he’s treating you like property. Can’t you see that? You don’t deserve this shit. You’re a fucking  _ prince _ . You’re in line for your own crown.”

He scoffed. “That’s who I used to be. Prince Jack is gone, Kent.”

He turned to Bitty. “Can we go? This was a mistake.”

Bitty looked obviously torn, eyes flicking between Kent and Jack, but nodding. “If that’s what you want.”

They both turned, and started to walk out.

“Wait, please, Jack. No. Don’t go.”

Jack stopped, the raw pain palpable in Kent’s voice.

“Please don’t do this, Kent. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He heard Kent swallow. “Okay. I just don’t want to argue with you. I miss you, Jack. I miss you so much.”

He closed his eyes, and he felt Bitty softly touch his face. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at his Master.

“I’m going to go wait outside for you, okay? You two need your alone time.”

Jack nodded, eyes stinging, and he watched his Master walk out of the door before turning to Kent.

Kent looked shaken, an almost wild look in his eyes, and Jack wondered briefly what it must have felt like to go through all these months without hearing from him. He’d had Bitty, had had his training to help him forget. And Kent had had no one and nothing but this room.

It made it easier to wrap Kent up in his arms again. Kent held onto him tightly, very obviously shaking, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he savored the familiarity of this, Kent in his arms, seeking him out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I never came to visit you. I thought that it would just hurt you, because I’m not the same person I used to be. And now we don’t get a chance for this again.”

Sorrow welled up in his chest. “I’m so so sorry, Kent.”

Kent stilled. “What do you mean, ‘you never came to visit me?’”

He bit his lip. “B- Master gave me the option to come see you, days after he’d first received me. I… I refused his offer because… because I knew that I’d upset you with the state I was in.”

Kent made a broken noise, and he held onto Jack even more tightly.

“I don’t want to know. I don’t. I just. I want you to come with me, Jack. I want you to come home.”

“Kenny, I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“ _ No _ . You  _ can _ . You have to. I kneel before your father’s throne now, and I will kneel before your throne when you rule. And I can’t do that if you’re here, looked down on by these savages who still think that humans can be possessions.”

Jack closed his eyes. “Kenny, please drop it. I can’t leave. Even if it were feasible, it would just restart the war. I did not surrender only to damn the country again.”

“Jack,  _ please _ .”

He pulled away, heart hurting. “Stop, Kenny. I can’t. I won’t. And if you keep pushing, I’ll leave. I just wanted to say goodbye to you.”

Kent’s mouth clicked shut. Jack saw emotions flitting across his face, too quickly for him to read, before nodding. There was a set look of determination on Kent’s face, and Jack knew in that moment that he was plotting something. He had no idea whatsoever what it was, but it would never succeed.

So he savored the last few moments he had with him instead.

Kent looked up at him, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek, and leaned up.

He saw Kent’s intent. He knew Kent was going to try to kiss him. The idea sent a surge of wrongness through his body. Yes, he still loved Kent. But he didn’t belong to him anymore.

He turned his head, and Kent’s lips landed on his cheek instead. He could feel Kent’s surprise and hurt, and he cupped Kent’s face lovingly.

“I’m really going to miss you, Kenny,” he murmured.

“Jack?” Kent’s voice was soft, raw, vulnerable, and it hurt Jack deeply.

He leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to Kent’s forehead, before turning and nodding at the mirror.

The door opened, and he ignored Kent’s pleas, his attempts to pull Jack away, and stepped out.

Through the window side of the mirror, he could see Kent slamming his body against the door, panic in his features. He heard Kent yelling for him to come back, and in his heart, Jack felt like he’d made a terrible mistake in coming here.

“Let’s go, Bitty. Please.”

Bitty looked concerned, eyes flicking towards Kent’s room, but he did as requested. They walked away, Kent’s yelling following them down the hall.

When they reached the guards at the end of the hallway, his Master leaned in close to them, whispering something. He assumed that it was something about Kent, but he wasn’t really in the mood to care.

His Master led them back to his quarters, sensing that he needed rest.

“We’ll just wait here until my father gets back. How’s that sound?”

He nodded, opening his arms for his Master to crawl into them. It made him feel better when his Master acquiesced, his small, warm body tucking into his larger one.

His Master was quiet for a moment, but he could feel in him a silence full of questions.

“Is something wrong, Bitty?” he asked softly.

Bitty stiffened, but sighed. “I guess I’m getting pretty easy to read.” Bitty turned in his arms until they were face to face, and he was briefly caught off guard by how beautiful Bitty’s big brown eyes were.

His Master took a deep breath. “I just wanted to know if you’re doing okay?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. “If I’m okay, Bitty?”

His Master nodded. “Yeah. You seemed really off when we left Kent. Honestly, I get it. I’d have been upset too. But I just wanted to know if maybe it was bothering you more than you let on.”

Ah. He should have known that his Master would ask. Bitty was always so considerate towards him, so gentle, wanting to make sure that he was always okay. It made him feel warm inside.

Still, he supposed his Master probably wanted an answer, even if it was just that he didn’t want to talk.

“I’m okay, Bitty. Really, I am. I just…” He trailed off, sighing. “I just should have seen that coming. I knew that Kent wouldn’t take this easily, but I didn’t expect him to be so angry. In hindsight, it was kind of dumb of me, but.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, Jack, sweetie,” Bitty breathed. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t feel sorry. It’s okay. I do feel better having seen him and said goodbye. I don’t know if I can say the same for him, but I’m ready to move on.”

“Jack?”

“Yes, Bitty?”

“Why didn’t you let him kiss you? You know you could have.”

He smiled down at Bitty, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead. “It felt too much like betraying you, Bitty.”

The ever familiar flicker of pain crossed his Master’s face, and his heart hurt a little bit. He wished desperately that his Master could understand just how much he really did care, but he was willing to wait.

He tucked his chin over his Master’s head, closing his eyes. “I’m tired, Bitty. Let’s take a nap.”

Hot breath brushed over his throat, and his body thrummed with energy.

“Alright.”

His Master turned his head, probably to get to fresher air, and the feeling of being wrapped up with his Master felt so good that it was no problem to close his eyes, let his breathing even out, and fall asleep.

…

A loud banging on his Master’s door woke him suddenly. His Master woke with a start too, and they looked at each other before his Master padded out of bed and towards the door.

He watched as his Master opened it, sticking his head out and asking what was going on. A voice, low and urgent, informed his Master of something that made him stiffen up. His Master looked back at Jack, and he felt the sinking suspicion that he’d done something wrong, although for the life of him he didn’t know what it was.

“Alright. I’ll be right out. Just give me one minute.”

The voice on the other end of the door agreed, and his Master scurried back towards the bed, sitting down and pulling his shoes on.

“There’s a problem I need to go take care of, okay Jack? This is business I have to see to alone, so you can’t come with me. Stay here, take a nap, read a book, anything you want. But  _ do not _ leave this room. Got it?”

“Yes, Bitty.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.”

He stayed in bed, curled up and comfortable. A small part of him wondered what it was that had riled up his Master so badly, but he wasn’t extremely concerned. It wasn’t any of his business, and his Master was more than capable of whatever the problem was.

He dozed lightly, still tired from having been woken up so suddenly. His dreams were nonsensical, dancing just beyond the reach of his memory when he would drift awake, when the door slammed open and ripped him out of them.

“Bitty?” he called out softly, lifting his bleary head from the pillows.

“Come on, we've gotta go,” said a voice that very clearly was not Bitty’s.

He sat up sharply, sucking in a panicked breath. The blankets pooled in his lap, and they tangled up in his legs as he tried to get away from the voice. He hadn't looked to see who it was, he just knew that it wasn't his Master, and he wasn't about to let himself be taken.

“Jack! What are you doing?”

He stopped, looking at the door and gasping when he saw Kent.

“Oh my god.  _ Kenny _ ?”

Kent grinned, the ever present gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Yeah.”

He reached out toward Jack, holding his hand out for him to take. “Come on. We’ve got to go before they find me.”

He stared at Kent, then at Kent’s hand, before shaking his head. “No.”

Kent pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned, face betraying his hurt. “No?”

Jack shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving with you, Kent. I’m sorry, I know you want me to. And a month ago, I probably would have joined you. But I’m content here. I’m happy with Bitty. I want to stay by his side.”

“No, you  _ don’t _ .”

Kent surged forward, grabbing Jack by the shoulders and pulling him close. “Can’t you see? He’s gotten into your head. He’s hurt you. He’s made you someone you’re not. He’s manipulating you, and you’re blind to it. You have to come with me. Leave. We’ll go somewhere, we’ll hide out for a little bit. And when the heat dies down, we’ll go back to your dad. To your mom. Your people. Don’t you miss them?”

It was surreal to see Kent begging. He couldn’t deny, however, that it hit a chord in his heart. He did miss his mom and dad. He missed his brothers in arms and the people who would come to ask the Crown for favors. He missed all of it. But it felt more like a dream than anything. That wasn’t his life anymore.

“I’m not leaving.” He turned his head away. “Please, Kent. Go. You’ll be home soon. You can keep my parents company. Keep them safe. Help them heal.”

Kent’s reply was cut off when they both heard voices stop right outside the door. They only waited long enough to hear “Your Highness,” before moving into motion.

“Move!” Jack hissed, pushing Kent away from him. “Get under the bed! Now!”

“Not until you say you’re coming with me.”

“We’re out of time. I’m sorry. Please. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Kent stared at him for another second, jaw clenching. “We’re not done with this conversation.”

Then he jumped off of the bed and shimmied under it with a speed that Jack knew meant he’d spent the past seven months training vigorously.

He smiled, and then his head jerked towards the door as it opened.

“Bi-” he began to greet, only for his blood to turn cold when King Bittle strode into the room.

He scrambled out of the bed, falling to his knees in front of His Highness. He bowed deeply, suddenly terrified.

“Rise, slave,” King Bittle commanded.

He complied easily, eyes cast down. A hand grabbed his chin, forcing his head up, and he suddenly had a recollection of a time very similar to this, only in his previous princely life.

“Look at me.”

His eyes immediately looked at King Bittle’s face, and he swallowed in fear at the calculating way he was being stared at.

“You seem nervous, slave,” King Bittle remarked.

“I-I am merely basking in your magnificent presence, Your Highness,” he mumbled, not daring to speak any louder.

King Bittle looked pleased, and his eyes traveled around the room, assessing it.

“A rumpled bed,” he mused. “Good.”

King Bittle let go of his chin and walked leisurely to the bedside table, opening it up. “A trove of toys, all still in their packaging.” King Bittle’s eyes bored into him. “Not so good.”

The King turned back towards him, putting his hands behind his back and walking back towards him. He shrunk away from King Bittle, who sighed and shook his head.

“See, I had a certain number of servants who I commanded to observe the state of affairs of my son and report back to me. I was also kept well aware of all the rumors flying around the court, and what I heard did not leave me pleased. My son’s manhood has been questioned by the entire court. They see him as weak, with a bleeding heart. I cannot have my heir seen as a sniveling child, not when he could take the throne at any time.  _ That _ is why I pushed him to used you, slave. You would satisfy the court, help to create a stronger Prince in the eyes of the aristocrats. And you seem to have failed. Tell me, and do not lie, slave. Has my son used you in any way, shape, or form since being presented with you?”

He gulped.

“I’m waiting.”

He closed his eyes, silently apologizing to Bitty. He didn’t want to betray him, but he could not lie to the King.

“No, Your Highness.”

King Bittle pursed his lips, sighing. “A shame.” He turned towards the door and lifted his voice. “Guards!”

Ransom and Holster opened the door, stepping in and looking towards King Bittle. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

The King motioned idly towards him, and his heart dropped. “Take him to the Lord I told you about. It seems that ownership is to change hands here.”

They both paused, staring at him, and he lowered his head, heart simultaneously breaking and racing in fear. He prayed desperately that his new owner would be even a fraction as kind as Bitty, although he did not count on it.

“Get on with it.”

Ransom and Holster obliged, quietly apologizing to him as they picked him up, Ransom holding his leash.

A yell emerged from under the bed, and before he could stop it, Kent tore out from his hiding spot, launching himself at Ransom and Holster. In their shock, they dropped him to the floor, trying to fend him off, and after mere moments of fighting, Kent crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

King Bittle tilted his head, staring down at Kent’s unconscious form.

“It seems that he’s been found, and right on time too. You,” he motioned to Ransom. “Take him back to the prisoners’ wing. Watch him until he's put on one of the buses back. You.” At this he motioned to Holster. “Take him to Lord Barton. Let him know that this one apparently has a streak of disobedience and will probably need a good whipping.”

They looked and each other briefly before inclining their heads respectfully. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ransom handed Holster Jack’s leash, and he tilted his head to the side, letting Holster hook it onto his collar. He closed his eyes in pain as Ransom picked Kent up and carried him out of the room.

Holster tugged lightly on the leash, motioning for him that it was time to go, and he didn’t fight. He was too scared of how badly it would reflect on Bitty if he did. The entire walk, his anxiety flooded him in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. He didn’t know what he was walking into. He didn’t want to be taken away from Bitty. He wanted so badly to go back to that moment when they’d been wrapped up in each other on the bed.

Instead, Holster stopped in front of a nasty looking man, who stared at Jack hungrily. The moment Holster handed the man the leash, his heart dropped into his stomach, and he gulped. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would probably be begging for mercy by the time the night was over.

…

Bitty’s heart was going to beat out of his chest. Of that, he was absolutely certain. The moment that he’d heard of Kent’s escape, he knew that the day wouldn’t end well. For the briefest of moments, he’d hoped that maybe he’d get a break when he saw Ransom carrying an unconscious Kent in and taking him to a new room while the prisoners were all being shuffled onto buses home.

That all changed when Ransom called him over. He seemed scared, but didn’t want to tell him what had happened, only that he needed to go to his room immediately because his father was waiting for him.

His heart had sunk, and he’d booked it out of the wing instantly. Now, on his way to his room, he felt like throwing up. His mind was running through a million different scenarios. He knew that it probably had something to do with all the rumors Ransom and Holster had been telling him about. His father was a good King, but he was too preoccupied with making sure that the court favored him and his family almost unconditionally.

If his father had heard the rumors surrounding him in particular, he knew that it would upset him. And the idea of his upset father alone with Jack…

He quickened his pace.

All too soon and yet nowhere near soon enough, he burst through the doors to his room with no more than a cursory glance at his father’s guards who were guarding the door in place of Ransom and Holster.

His father sat on his bed.

Jack was nowhere in sight.

Completely ignoring his father, Bitty started frantically looking around the room.

“Jack? Jack!” he called, opening the bathroom door.

There was no one in there either.

“Calling out for your slave is of no use.”

Bitty whirled towards his father, whose face was stony in a way that it only ever was when he was disappointed in Bitty. “What did you do?”

His father rose from the bed, power emanating from every pore of his body, and Bitty shivered. It was so easy to be intimidated by this man, who had brought entire kingdoms to their knees.

Still, this was for Jack. So, even though his knees felt as if they were going to give out underneath his weight, he stood tall, staring his father in the eyes.

His father seemed surprised, but only for the smallest of seconds before it too was hidden behind his mask of stone. “I merely did my duty as your father. I took away your privilege when you did not act befitting of your station.”

“You did  _ what _ ?”

“Calm yourself, child. There is no use for hysterics here.”

“Then explain what you’ve done,  _ Father _ .”

He spat the word, so angry he felt he could explode.

His father stared at him levelly. “I have taken your slave from you and gifted him to a Lord who pleased me.”


End file.
